Archive of Our Own ^beta

“What’s your opinion on having an affair?” Kazuya asks, leaning his cheek further into his palm as he stares down at his untouched plate of karaage.

Kuramochi stops mid-drink. “I knew you were trash and Sawamura deserved better.”

A vein in Kazuya’s forehead ticks. “I’m not having one!”

“I still knew you were trash.”

Kazuya whips his head around to glare at Kuramochi, sitting in the stool beside Kazuya’s with his glass of beer raised to his lips. “I’m not thinking of having one either!”

“Oh.” Kuramochi takes a large swig of his drink. “Then say so earlier, instead of asking dumb questions without any explanation.”

Kazuya frowns. “I’m hurt by your lack of faith in me. It’s been almost a decade since you’ve known me, you know.”

“Old habits die hard.”

Kazuya rolls his eyes.

Kuramochi places his glass down, raising an eyebrow. “So, why did you ask?”

Kazuya presses his lips together, dropping his head between his shoulders. He nudges his plate forward with his elbow, lowering his eyelids and pointedly not sulking. “Sawamura might be cheating on me.”

Kuramochi immediately picks his glass back up and raises it into the air in a cheering motion. “Good for him, I’ll drink to that.”

Kazuya deflates in his stool, dropping his forehead onto the table and rattling not only his plate, but also the party of three’s dishes a few seats down the bar from them.

“Oh crap, are you serious?” Kuramochi asks incredulously. “I thought you were joking. Sawamura? The one you’re dating, Sawamura? Sawamura Eijun? Sawamura ‘I wear my heart on my sleeve’ Eijun? Sawamura ‘I think the sun shines out of Miyuki’s ass’ Eijun? Sawamura ‘I asked Miyuki out first after chasing him for five years even though Miyuki was doing the same thing but he was a wimp—”

“Hey now….”

“—so he didn’t have the courage to ask Sawamura out first’ Eijun? That Sawamura Eijun?”

Kazuya doesn’t even have the rationalization to confirm. Not with the way that Kuramochi has just phrased everything. He knows how ridiculous he sounds, but it’s not like he doesn’t have any grounds to suspect it. Does Kuramochi think that Kazuya likes suspecting Sawamura at all? This hurts him too!

“You’re an idiot,” Kuramochi deadpans.

“Yeah!” Kazuya shoots up, glaring down at his plate of karaage, even though the only heinous act that it’s done to him is going cold. “Maybe!” He slams his head down onto the table again, wincing at the dull pain that pricks his forehead. “I am,” he murmurs.

“Excuse me, is he okay?” One of the chefs ask in concern.

“Oh no he’s fine,” Kuramochi says. “He’s just in the middle of a self-made crisis.”

Kazuya sighs, closing his eyes and ignoring the rest of Kuramochi's conversation with the staff over whether or not Kazuya’s gone crazy. For the record, he hasn’t. At least, he doesn’t think so, but he doesn’t know how else to justify Sawamura’s actions these past two weeks.

“Dude,” Kuramochi says once the chef walks away. “What the hell’s up?”

“Sawamura’s been coming home late these past two weeks, and he’s always dodgy whenever I ask him why.” Kazuya cracks his eyes open, raising himself back up when his lower back starts to throb from how he’s folding himself over the counter like a shrimp. “It’s not like I have to know what he does every second of the day, since we’re together for over half of it at home and at practice, but he doesn’t have to be so flighty about his responses. Like he’s guilty about having something to hide.”

Kuramochi hums.

Kazuya drops his cheek into his palm, scowling as he drums his fingers against the counter. “It doesn’t help that I caught him out with Hirano a few days ago, arguably the sleaziest guy on the team. The media might not pick up on it, but he cycles through girls like they’re TV channels.”

“Trash,” Kuramochi comments.

Kazuya nods in agreement. “I tried asking him about it, but he’d only answered with,” Kazuya raises his voice, imitating his senpai as disrespectfully as he can, “‘What I talk to Sawamura about with his extramarital affairs is none of your business’, or something like that. I tuned him out halfway through.”

“Dude,” Kuramochi gasps. “Extramarital?!”

Kazuya clicks his tongue, his face darkening.

“That’s not even close to what Sawamura—!” Kuramochi cuts himself off abruptly, and Kazuya widens his eyes, whipping his head around to face Kuramochi. Kuramochi slaps a hand over his eyes, dragging it wearily down to his mouth. The guilty face of someone knows something but wasn’t supposed to spill that they know.

Kazuya narrows his eyes, lowering his hand. “You know something.”

“I don’t.”

Kazuya leans forward. “Tell me.”

Kuramochi spares him a cursory glance, before he waves his hand dismissively. “It’s not for me to tell. Just wait for Sawamura to tell you.”

“But it’s not him cheating, right?” Sawamura wouldn’t do that to him.

Kuramochi sighs. “Do you think that he would do something like that to you?” He takes another sip from his glass, doing absolutely nothing to quell Kazuya’s doubts. Maybe they weren’t doubts of Sawamura cheating on him, but they were still doubts nonetheless. Doubts that Kazuya doesn’t want to have, but it seems that his brain always jumps to the worst possible conclusions whenever it involves human emotions.

“No. I don’t. But why can’t you just tell me?” Kazuya asks, almost pleadingly.

Kuramochi brings his fingers up to his chin, seemingly contemplating something. “Remember when you introduced me to a girl about a year after you went pro, but it just turned out she was just a persistent fan of yours that you wanted to curve off your tail?”

Kazuya feels a bucket of cold recollection being doused over his head, the corner of his lip twitching. “That was almost seven years ago.”

Kuramochi glowers at him. “Consider it a late payback.”

Kazuya slumps over in his seat, resuming his shrimp position. “I’m a changed man,” he whines. “Why can’t you just take pity on me? As a friend you’ve known for over ten years?”

“Changed where? Friend when?”

Okay, uhm, that hurts. “Ouch,” Kazuya finishes pitifully.

“Listen, he’ll tell you when he’s ready.” Kuramochi jabs an elbow into Kazuya’s side. “You’re not exactly helping his case.”

Oh, so this is Kazuya’s fault now? He doesn’t recall doing anything that would distance Sawamura from him though. Last he’d checked, they’d been doing fine.

Playful digs at each other are an obvious constant, from the moment they wake up in the same bed in the morning, to the evening when they fall back into that same bed. Kazuya doesn’t think that he’d gone too far with his jokes, he hasn’t for a while now. And up until two weeks ago, they would always go home together at the end of every practice too, with Kazuya cooking dinner for them and Sawamura cleaning their table and washing the dishes right after.

A simple routine, but a routine nonetheless. The atmosphere has never been heavy between the two of them.

Kazuya sighs again. He feels like a deflated balloon with how much he’s done that just tonight alone. “I need some air.” He pushes himself up, pulling out a few bills from his wallet and pressing it down onto the counter beside Kuramochi’s elbow. “You can keep the change.”

“You haven’t even touched your chicken,” Kuramochi says.

Kazuya waves his hand dismissively, stuffing his hands into his pockets and making his way towards the entrance of the small izakaya. “You can have it.”

“It’s not even warm anymore!” Kuramochi calls after him, but Kazuya elects to ignore him, ducking under the curtain leading out of the restaurant.

He steps outside into the cool air, and he’s immediately met with a small crowd of people walking past him. He trudges to the side of the entrance, leaning his back against the wall and inhaling a deep breath. Kuramochi will probably know that he’s not planning on going back in, so he’ll just stand outside until the other comes out.

Kazuya breathes slowly out of his nose, tipping his head back against the wall.

It’s the first time that he’s gone out ever since Sawamura started growing distant. He gets enough social interaction with other people whenever he’s at practice, so it’s not until now that he realizes just how much of his day revolves around Sawamura outside of that. Even if the atmosphere around them starts softening after dinner, they’re still together, plastered against each other in some way. Quiet, and peaceful.

Sometimes he forgets that they’re even dating, until they cross boundaries that are usually drawn between friends. He feels heat crawling up his cheeks, recalling just what those boundaries are. He presses his hands together over his nose, mentally groaning. What is he? Five? They’ve been doing this for three years now.

“Dude,” Kuramochi says, stepping up beside him. He holds a takeout box in his hands, holding it out for Kazuya to take. “I think—”

“Of course!” A voice shouts. A voice that sounds way too familiar. A voice that Kazuya would recognize anywhere.

He widens his eyes, quickly snapping his head in the direction of the voice. And there, walking out of the ramen stand right beside them, is Sawamura Eijun. Kazuya’s eyes widen even further when he sees Sawamura grinning down at the person beside him, pulling them even closer to his side with his arms looped around their shoulders. Kazuya can’t even see the back profile of the person Sawamura is with, because they have Sawamura’s jacket thrown over their head, shrouding them from any prying eyes from behind.

But he knows it’s a girl. He can see the long skirt that flows behind her as she walks.

“Oh crap,” Kuramochi murmurs, bringing a hand up to his neck.

“You’re my whole world you know?!” Sawamura shouts boisterously. Kazuya clenches his fists from within his pants pockets, pressing his lips together until it hurts. “I love you!”

The girl giggles, and Kazuya can barely even hear her response, with the way Sawamura starts leading the girl down the street with his arms still circled around her, trying to blend in with the crowd. “You’re overdoing it.”

Sawamura tilts his head down, pressing his cheek against the crown of her head. Something twists inside Kazuya’s chest, and it’s so damning that he doesn’t even register the sharp pain until it starts cutting too deep. “I’m serious!” Sawamura declares, his voice carrying easily because of how loud he is. “You’re the only one I could ever want. My precious, precious girlfriend.”

The girl wraps an arm around Sawamura’s waist, saying something else that has Sawamura laughing, but they’re too far away by this point for Kazuya to properly discern what they’re saying.

Kuramochi clicks his tongue. “Oh man. This must look so bad from your perspective right now. Listen, I’m sure that—”

“I’m going home,” Kazuya states, not even bothering to wait for Kuramochi’s response before he turns in the opposite direction. Back to his apartment, his lonely apartment that he doesn’t particularly want Sawamura to return to tonight. For once.

“Look, Miyuki!” Kuramochi chases after him, bracing a hand against Miyuki’s chest and stopping him in place. “I’ll go kick him right now. It’s not what you think it looks like, okay?”

“Then what is it supposed to look like?” Kazuya asks. His palms hurt, his nails cutting into his skin from how hard he’s clenching his fists. He wouldn’t even be surprised if he was bleeding by now. That painful ache in his chest isn’t lessening, and he hates it. It makes him feel vulnerable, bearing his weaknesses for the only man that he would ever entrust his heart to.

“How should I know?” Kuramochi grouses. “I’ll go beat him up if it really is a secret girlfriend, but I’m about a hundred percent sure that it’s not.” Kuramochi slots the takeout box between one of Kazuya’s bent arms. “Don’t get too far into your head idiot. Sawamura would never take a relationship lightly. He chased you for five years, didn’t he?”

Kuramochi pats his shoulder once, before booking it down the street, chasing after Sawamura. Kazuya stays where he is, staring impassively down at the concrete.

He brings a hand up to his face, forcefully uncurling his fingers. No visible injury, but the imprints are pretty deep. Just a bit more, and he would bleed. One more excuse from guilt-ridden golden eyes, and he would break. But he would only ever break in silence, never in front of anyone else. Even if Sawamura holds the only weapon that he could ever use to strike Kazuya down with in his hands, Kazuya would never bleed in front of him. He refuses to.

He grits his teeth, limply dropping his hand to his side.

But just because he refuses to, doesn't mean that he won’t.

He’s pathetic.

Kazuya pushes his sleeping mask up when he feels someone wrapping their arms around his waist, pressing their cheek against his back. It doesn't startle him, since he hadn't even been asleep. Far from it actually. He’d been awake when Sawamura had come in through their front door, when Sawamura had come into their shared bedroom to grab a change of clothes, when Sawamura had been taking a bath.

He’d just decided to feign sleep so he wouldn’t have to deal with Sawamura, but he’d been unable to keep himself from acting on the brief flash of anger at Sawamura’s audacity in sliding into bed right behind Kazuya. Even though Kazuya had deliberately slept on the very edge of his side of the bed, where he’s dangerously close to falling off. Even though Sawamura had been cuddling up to another girl and calling her his ‘girlfriend’ so easily, when he’s already dating someone else. That someone being Kazuya.

“I’m back,” Sawamura says quietly.

Not for much longer, Kazuya supposes. Kazuya doesn’t answer, pulling his mask resolutely back over his eyes.

Sawamura sighs, burying his face into the crook of Kazuya’s neck. “Kuramochi-senpai kicked me, my butt still hurts.”

Kazuya scoffs. Serves him right.

“It really wasn’t what you think.” Sawamura tightens his hold around Kazuya’s waist, his voice mopey. “Wakana came to Tokyo to help me with something, but some creep came up to her when I went to the restroom and wouldn’t let her go. I was only pretending to be her boyfriend so he’d get off her back.”

Oh.

Kazuya stays silent, but he does feel some of the knots in his chest loosening. Not all the way, because this still doesn’t diminish the fact that Sawamura’s been distant lately, but at least he wasn’t outright cheating on Kazuya. Kazuya hopes that he isn’t. He wants to believe that Sawamura isn’t.

“Kuramochi says you heard us, didn’t you hear how exaggerated my confessions of love were? Even Wakana called me embarrassing.” Sawamura wriggles behind him, jostling Kazuya lightly. Unbidden, Kazuya feels his lips twitching at Sawamura’s antics. “You’re the only one I’ve ever genuinely confessed to, can’t you tell the difference?”

Kazuya still doesn't answer him, just because he can. And to get back at Sawamura for all the distress that he’d caused him.

Sawamura sighs. “Kazuya,” Sawamura whines, and if that doesn’t get Kazuya’s chest fluttering. “I like you. A lot. I chased you for five years and we’ve been together for three. You think I would get over you so easily? Even after I know how terrible you are? How much of a rude, sly, jerkish, tanuki-resemb—”

“Okay okay,” Kazuya finally cracks, lifting his mask and digging his elbow into Sawamura’s stomach. “As much as I like the compliments, I liked you better when you were confessing your undying devotion to me.”

Sawamura laughs breathily, and Kazuya smiles softly at the sound. He doesn’t turn around though, not wanting Sawamura to see what he looks like. He’s not ready for that type of vulnerability yet, not after having his heart nearly shattered (something he will never admit out loud) just two hours ago. “But you like me.”

Kazuya rolls his eyes. “Of course that’s what you would take away from that.”

“As long as you like me,” Sawamura says, burying his nose into Kazuya’s neck. “It doesn’t matter the context.”

Kazuya swallows thickly, feeling his cheeks heat up, his stomach swooping out from inside him. When did Sawamura get so suave? Has he always been like this? Or is it just the sudden distance between them that makes that trait of his more prominent? They better get closer soon, because Kazuya doesn’t think he can take any more of this if Sawamura were to continue. “Go to sleep. We have practice tomorrow too.”

Sawamura hums. “Whatever you say cap’.”

“I’m not your captain.” He hasn’t been captain for a while now.

“You’ll always be my captain.”

Kazuya bursts out laughing. “What kind of dumb innuendo is that?”

“It’s not an innuendo! It’s sentimental!”

“Okay, and which bat am I—”

“Don’t you dare,” Sawamura fumes, biting the back of Kazuya’s neck in spite. Kazuya winces, slapping a hand over his neck protectively. “Ruin it for me, Miyuki Kazuya!”

Sawamura goes back home with him after practice for two days after that, and Kazuya thinks that they’re finally okay.

Until Sawamura starts making excuses again, and Kazuya is left walking home on his own, just like before. With his chin tipped down and his hands inserted into his sweatpants, heavy duffel bag with all his equipment jostling beside his hip. It’s the only sound that fills the silence, besides all the rumbling of the cars that drive by, all the loud chattering of the people he walks past.

Kazuya doesn’t even attempt to ask him what he’s doing this time around, because with every night that Sawamura comes back home late, each time at varying hours, he settles into the bed further and further away from Kazuya’s side. Until there’s a sizeable distance between the two of them, one that Kazuya doesn’t have the reassurance to cross, one that Sawamura leaves open.

“What’s your opinion on breaking up?” Kazuya asks no one in particular.

He tips his head back, the cap that he wears in danger of slipping off his head from how hard he digs the back of his head into the back of the park bench that he’s sitting on. The clothes that he wears are uncomfortable, the brand new material of it scratching against his skin whenever he shifts his body. He’d gotten dragged into a random photo shoot down the block when he had been walking back after a haircut. It was for a promotional ad with an idol that he didn’t recognize, but apparently they’d run out of extras, and Kazuya’s silhouette had fit the bill. They’d all but dragged him off the street and shoved him into their wardrobe trailer, dressing him up like a doll.

It’d all happened so quickly that he didn’t even have time to protest. At least the idol had given him the new set of clothes as compensation, but Kazuya doesn’t really like the feel of them, so he doesn’t know if he’ll ever wear them again. Too decorative and not enough practicality.

His own clothes are still in a trash bag beside him. He’ll put them on again later.

He sniffles behind his black surgical mask, reaching a hand up to rub at his eyes from behind his sunglasses. His vision is blurry, and leaving it like this is slowly starting to give him a headache, drying his eyes out from the strain. His glasses remain tucked away in his pocket, and he grimaces, thinking of all the smudges the lenses must have on them by now.

It’s night too, so he doesn’t even know why he still has the sunglasses on.

But he’s too lazy to take them off. He likes this better anyways, hiding his features away from anyone who passes by him in the park he’s sulking at. He must look so shady right now. He’s surprised that no one’s reported him yet.

He sighs, closing his eyes.

He doesn’t want to go home.

He doesn’t want to go back to an empty home. This will mark the end of the third week that he’s had to, and he doesn’t know how much more he can take. Those two days that Sawamura had gone home with him felt like a trap, like he was a devoted dog and Sawamura had been dangling a treat over his nose before snatching it away from him mockingly.

‘I like you. A lot.’

Then start acting like it, Kazuya thinks bitterly. Kazuya doesn’t understand why Sawamura would say that if he doesn’t really mean it. If Kazuya is just going to be toyed with, then he’d rather that Sawamura break it off with him already, if he no longer wanted to stay in a relationship with Kazuya anymore.

Just cut him off.

Kazuya doesn’t like being kept in the dark when they could just say it to his face. He doesn’t like faux reassurance. He doesn’t like having something intangible, something uncertain. He either believes in it, or he doesn’t.

Just—

Kazuya slaps his hands over his face, letting out a shuddering breath. Rationally, he knows that he’s overthinking, but he doesn’t know how to stop.

He slides his eyes open. He hates this.

“You’ll catch a cold if you keep sitting out here like this, mister.”

Kazuya widens his eyes, recognizing the voice as if it were second nature, after hearing it nearly daily for the past decade. Slowly, he uncovers his face, swallowing thickly at the bright grin he sees spreading across Sawamura’s face. Sawamura’s eyes close into crescents, holding out a wrapped bun in his hand. From the labeling, Kazuya can see that it’s one of the sweet ones, either red bean or black sesame.

Kazuya opens his mouth, before he thinks better of it, and takes the bun out of Sawamura’s hand, holding it between his fingers.

“Mind if I join you?” Sawamura asks.

Kazuya furrows his eyebrows. Did Sawamura not recognize him or something? Maybe it’s the haircut, or maybe it’s the surgical mask. Kazuya usually goes with the standard white, but the photographer had given him a black one before he'd left the venue. He nods.

“Thanks.” Sawamura doesn’t waste another second in plopping down onto the wooden bench beside Kazuya, keeping a single seat of space between the two of them. He zips his jacket all the way up to his chin, before inserting his hands into his pockets. “I really didn’t want to go home yet today.”

Home. To their apartment. Their apartment that Sawamura’s been spending less and less time in lately. Seems like the two of them had the same idea, just for different reasons. Kazuya ignores the slight pulling of his heartstrings, digging his thumbs into the plastic wrapped around the warm bun. He lowers his voice and tries to speak slower, hoping that Sawamura won’t be able to discern the regular cadence of it. “Why?”

“Because I,” Sawamura pauses, sinking even lower in his seat. “Mind if I ask you for some advice?”

Kazuya shakes his head. What would it be, he wonders ruefully. Maybe he already knows.

“I’ve asked almost everyone I know, and they’ve all given me mixed answers, so I don’t really know what to do.” Sawamura sighs, and from the corner of his eye, he can see Sawamura turn to smile wearily at him. “Maybe an outsider’s advice can tip the scales.”

Kazuya chews on his bottom lip behind his mask, but he nods.

“Let’s see.” Sawamura tilts his head to the side, kicking his legs out. “I have, a partner.”

Ah. So, it is about this, huh? Kazuya closes his eyes, letting out a silent and measured breath. He’d almost wished that Sawamura had found a different stranger, because no matter what answer he gives, Kazuya’s sure to pick the one that will benefit him the most, even at the expense of Sawamura’s feelings.

Kazuya tightens his jaw.

Or rather…no. Maybe in the past, he would’ve. He’s not selfless unless it’s related to baseball, and he doesn’t think that he ever will be, but in Sawamura’s case, he—thinks that it’ll be the closest he’ll ever get, to being selfless. For him, for Sawamura, he wants to respond in kind to everything that Sawamura has ever given him. Happiness, and the boundless summer sky.

He would rather be the one to orchestrate his own breakup, than keep Sawamura in a relationship he no longer wants to be in. At the very least, they’ll always be together in baseball.

Kazuya is good at compartmentalizing. This, would be no different. He quirks his lip wryly. God, when did he ever turn this sappy? If everyone heard him now, they would think that he’s been replaced with some horribly-made alien copy.

“He doesn’t have the best personality, but I think we get along pretty well,” Sawamura says. “He’s great at a lot of things, like baseball, cooking, and laundry. But he fails at a lot of other things too, like expressing his feelings, or getting up in the mornings, or properly troubleshooting his laptop when all it takes is for him to restart it. It’s literally all I do, but he still manages to look surprised every single time.”

Kazuya deadpans. That’s none of his business.

“I think we’re good.” Sawamura presses his lips together. “This is probably the best we’ll get as we are. But lately, I’ve been thinking that I don’t want to keep going like this for the rest of our lives. It might not make much of a difference to him, but—well, maybe I’m just selfish. This relationship that we have, I don’t—want to continue it, like this. I—”

Kazuya inhales a sharp breath.

“—want to marry him.”

Kazuya chokes, doubling over to cough out the astonishment that’s clogging his throat, loud and guttural. Because WHAT?! What did he just hear right now?! Did he even hear correctly?! Sawamura is immediately at his side, slapping his back in an attempt to help relieve him, desperately shouting, “Are you okay?!”, directly into his ear.

Kazuya jerkily nods his head, even though he’s probably one more cough away from spilling out a lung into his mask from how hard he’s coughing.

“Let me go get you some water, I saw a vending machine close by!” Sawamura shouts.

But Kazuya latches onto his arm before he can go, quickly shaking his head. He swallows thickly a few more times, in an attempt to calm himself down, and finally manages to kill his coughs down to a minimum. His throat still hurts, but it’ll probably help with his attempts at disguising his voice. He lets out another stray cough, turning away into his shoulder, before he clears his throat.

“You okay?” Sawamura asks in concern.

Kazuya’s still holding onto him, and he’s reluctant to let go, but he still forces his fingers to uncurl from Sawamura’s sleeve, not wanting to give up the illusion of being a stranger to him just yet. He also can’t have Sawamura leaving, not when he’s essentially just stopped the rotation of Kazuya’s entire world. He lets out a shuddering breath, feeling the back of his throat tickle just the slightest bit, and nods. “Spit,” he croaks, “choke.”

“Okay.” Sawamura leans back, frowning. “Let me know if you need water though.”

Kazuya nods again in acknowledgement. He places the bun on his lap, before twirling his hand awkwardly in the air. “Continue?” He can’t say much, or risk Sawamura recognizing his voice.

“Oh, you’re still willing to hear me out?” Sawamura asks, smiling gently.

Kazuya nods.

Sawamura laughs. “Thanks! You’re one nice stranger!”

Well. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, Kazuya feels like he’s about to combust, and if he doesn’t get a comprehensive explanation to this whole dilemma soon, then he’ll most likely end up wringing Sawamura’s neck himself in an attempt to get one. Does Sawamura want to break up or not?! His words and his actions tell very different stories.

“Well anyway, I want to marry him,” Sawamura says, this time with full confidence. Okay?! So Kazuya isn’t experiencing auditory hallucinations, that’s nice. That’s, nice. “The only problem is, I don’t know if that’s what he wants.”

Kazuya almost blows his cover in disbelief. Why wouldn’t he?!

“He said that he wasn’t particularly interested in dating or marriage before we got together.”

Idiot! That was obviously before they got together! And Kazuya wasn’t even saying that to Sawamura! It was just to get his senpai off his back about dragging him to their matchmaking parties!

Sawamura lowers his eyes, twisting his fingers together. “Which is surprising, since he agreed to go out with me about a year later.” See! “But I don’t know if he’d want to go any further than that. I don’t mind being labeled as a ‘boyfriend’, but I want,” Sawamura presses his lips together, “more than that.”

Kazuya’s heart skips a beat, and he has to physically lean further away from Sawamura just to make sure that the other doesn’t hear it.

Sawamura sighs, reaching a hand up to scratch at his head in frustration. “I’ve tried asking for advice from everyone I know these past few weeks, and I’m always getting roped into these long-winded conversations that last several hours. But none of them help, because everyone’s advice always clashes with each other.”

That’s what Sawamura’s been doing these past three weeks?! Say so earlier! He had Kazuya worrying for nothing! …well, this isn’t exactly nothing but still!

“My senpai from my uh, uhm—work, told me to just dump him, because if he’s said that, then he’s obviously not committed to our relationship. Even if we’re dating now, there’s no guarantee that he won’t break up with me next week, or next month, or even tomorrow; is what they said. It’s just a placeholder in his life for now, until someone else comes along and he decides that he’s finally ready for marriage.”

Who the hell said all that?! Kazuya’s going to flay them alive.

Sawamura pouts, lifting his legs onto the bench and drawing them to his chest. “But I don’t want to do that. My high school buddies tell me to just spring it on him, because he definitely won’t say no. And my childhood friend says I should just wait a little longer, just to gauge how he really feels about us.”

Honestly, Kazuya’s fine with either. Just not that first one!

“But I don’t want to wait!” Sawamura cries, balling up his fists above his knees.

Kazuya flinches. Then don’t wait!

And then Sawamura suddenly deflates, dropping his forehead onto his knees. “But I also don’t know what I would do if,” Sawamura continues somberly, “he says that he still doesn’t want to, once I ask him directly. I don’t know if I would be able to handle the disappointment and heartbreak, and still smile at him after that, so would we have to break up?”

“No!” Sawamura jumps, and Kazuya nearly falls out of his seat when he realizes he’s just screamed that out loud. Crap! “I mean, uh, you…don’t…know?”

Sawamura blinks bewilderedly at him, electing to keep the widened distance that he’d created between the two of them when he’d jumped back in fright. “Right,” he drawls. “I don’t.”

Kazuya internally facepalms, his hands warm and sweaty. “You should,” he pauses, before he finishes lamely, “ask.”

Sawamura slowly unwinds, lowering his feet back down to the ground while casting one last surreptitious glance in Kazuya’s direction. Kazuya pretends he doesn’t notice. Sawamura turns his head away. “You think so?”

Kazuya breathes out a silent breath of relief, and nods.

Sawamura lets out a long-suffering sigh, leaning forward to plant his elbows onto his knees. “What if he says no?”

As if. “He won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I know.” Because Kazuya won’t. He feels as if his heart is going to pound out of his chest, swelling until it beats against his rib cage painfully. And he feels as if the universe is playing the biggest prank on him, with a hidden camera directed at his face just to capture every single bit of false hope that he has. And he feels as if once he stands, the earth is going to drop out from underneath his feet, swallowing him for even daring to hope.

But he won’t say no, even if all those things happen. That’s the furthest thing from what he wants to say. From what he will say.

Sawamura stares down at the ground for a few more moments, gnawing on his bottom lip until it’s bitten-red with a furrow in his brow. “Well, that makes one of us.” Sawamura smiles gratefully at him.

Kazuya leans forward a bit, restraining himself from reaching out to grab at Sawamura’s sleeve again. “Ask,” he insists. Because he really wants Sawamura to.

Sawamura’s smile widens, before he pushes himself up, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets in the process. “Yeah. I guess I won’t know his answer until I ask huh? Thanks.”

Kazuya smiles anxiously back, before he realizes that Sawamura wouldn’t be able to see it, and nods.

“Then I’ll do it tonight!” Sawamura hunches his shoulder up to his ears, his eyes closing into a crescent-eyed grin. “Keep the bun! I bought it on impulse on the way to the park, but I’m pretty full!”

Tonight? Is he serious? Kazuya…doesn’t know if he’ll be ready by then. He nods. “Thanks,” he whispers, shifting the bun in his lap.

“Then I’ll see you!” Sawamura tips his head at him, before he turns on his heel and marches his way towards the park exit, the soles of his sneakers crunching along the gravel path.

Kazuya watches him as he leaves, waiting until Sawamura is out of sight before shooting up to his feet and tearing off his sunglasses, catching the bun in his lap at the last second and tossing it back onto the bench. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, dialing Kuramochi’s number and unceremoniously shoving his glasses back onto his face. He tears his hat and surgical mask off while he waits too, too high off his elation to even care about the fingerprint smudges that are clouding his vision.

Kuramochi picks up after four rings, and Kazuya doesn’t even give him the chance to utter out a greeting.

“You knew?!” Kazuya shouts incredulously. The wide smile that spreads across his face hurts.

“Knew,” Kuramochi drawls. “Knew what? Be more specific.”

“About Sawamura.” Kazuya doesn’t think that he wants to say the words directly out loud, just in case he jinxes it.

“Oh that.” Kuramochi grunts. “So he finally asked you?”

“Yes. Wait, no. I mean, no. Not yet. I’m not supposed to know yet.”

“What?”

Kazuya digs his fingers into his hair, biting down on his lip. “It was an accident.”

“Dude you ruined your own surprise!” Kuramochi shouts in exaspseration.

“It doesn’t matter!” Kazuya argues back, pulling at his hair, part in anxiety, part in giddiness. “I’ll just pretend I didn’t know. Just—he, he’s not joking right?” Kazuya inhales a quivering breath, forcing himself to calm down. Slowly, he settles himself back onto the bench. “Does he mean it?”

Kuramochi sighs. “I got dragged into a three-hour long conversation with him about this. Ryou-san and Haruichi got roped into it too. You think that amount of dedication to a single topic—one of my least favorite ones, mind you, I’m a saint for putting up with it, and you owe me about ten meals—would mean that he wasn’t serious about this?”

Kazuya drops his face into his hand, pushing up his glasses. He laughs, and it sounds hysterical. He wouldn’t put it past Kuramochi to think that he’s become some sort of maniac. Maybe he has, because his hands and feet won’t stop shaking, jittering like he’s downed ten cans of coffee all in one go. “I thought—crap, I thought he was going to break up with me.”

Kuramochi scoffs. “You need a new prescription, because you’re obviously blind.”

Kazuya lets out another laugh, slumping against the bench and brushing his bangs back with his free hand. “He said he’s asking tonight.”

“Finally. That guy’s been pining for over a month.”

A whole month. God Kazuya was so stupid. “I’m going home.”

“You’re not home?”

“No, but I’m going to be soon.” He sounds way too exhilarated, and he thinks that Kuramochi can hear it too. He grabs at the trash bag of clothes beside him, and books it towards the closest public restroom he can find.

“You guys are disgusting,” Kuramochi grumbles in disdain. “Congratulations though.”

Kazuya still hasn’t stopped smiling. “Thanks.”

“Ten meals!” Kuramochi reminds him. “That’s how much you owe me!”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. I have a proposal to accept.”

“Literally, shut up.” And then Kuramochi hangs up on him.

But Kazuya could care less, haphazardly shoving his phone into his back pocket as he finally spots a public restroom across the street.

“You’re back!” Sawamura shouts, jumping up from the couch as soon as Kazuya shuts the door behind him. He quickly pads his way towards Kazuya.

Kazuya smiles at him from the genkan, pacing himself as he toes off his shoes and places them right beside Sawamura’s. A small apartment, a big enough home for the two of them.

He straightens up and steps up the small step, meeting Sawamura halfway in their entrance hallway.

Sawamura blinks up at him, parting his lips in bewilderment. “You got a haircut.”

“Yeah.” Kazuya lifts his eyes. His bangs had been getting too long, falling into his eyes whenever he so much as tilted his head a single degree downwards. The tips reach just below his eyebrows now, but he’d decided to trim the rest of his hair too. He pulls at his bangs. “Too short?”

“Nah, this is standard Miyuki Kazuya length.” Sawamura reaches his hand out, brushing his fingers against Kazuya’s to play with Kazuya’s bangs. Kazuya lets him, arranging the locks of Kazuya’s hair as he pleases. “Makes you look younger.”

Kazuya snorts, lowering his hand to his side. “I’m not that old.”

Sawamura sticks his tongue out. “Then stop acting like it.”

Kazuya rolls his eyes, pinching Sawamura’s nose and smirking at the wail that the other lets out. “Brat.” And the way he says it is just short of loving.

“Tanuki!” Sawamura snipes back, his voice nasally from Kazuya’s pinching.

Kazuya lets go, flicking Sawamura in the forehead lightly, before he brushes past him to their living room. “So, what have you been doing while I was gone?” He hasn’t really gotten the chance to ask that lately, not with Sawamura being the one who comes back later than he does. It feels foreign, but after so long, the question is more than welcome.

But Sawamura grabs onto his wrist before Kazuya can take another step further. “Actually I,” Sawamura trails off nervously.

Kazuya widens his eyes, whirling around in shock. Sawamura has his head angled off to the side, biting down on his lip. His right hand trembles slightly by his side, even though the grip that he has on Kazuya’s wrist is firm. Really? This early? Sawamura’s going to bring it up this early? He’d thought that they would get a few minutes of mundane conversation at least.

“I have, something,” Sawamura says haltingly, twisting his free hand into the hem of his shirt. He lifts his eyes up to Kazuya’s face, his skin beet red even with the ocean of uncertainty swimming in his eyes. “Something, to, ask you.”

Kazuya’s heart rate starts speeding up, and he swallows, slowly curling his fingers inwards. Numbly, Kazuya nods, but even he can’t fight the rush of blood that warms his own cheeks, already able to guess what Sawamura is about to ask. Maybe pretending to be a stranger in order to listen to Sawamura’s ordeals wasn’t the best idea. He could probably be handling this better than he is now. “Me too.”

Sawamura widens his eyes. “Y-you do?!”

“Yeah,” Kazuya says slowly. “I do.”

“D-do you want to go first?!”

Kazuya can barely hear him over the blood rushing past his ears. “Same time?”

Sawamura raises his eyebrows. “How will that work? What if we have two different questions?”

Well, that would be embarrassing, wouldn’t it? But Kazuya will gamble on it. He’s already gambled everything that he has on Sawamura, from the very first moment that he’s met him, and he hasn’t lost even once. “Let’s do it anyway.”

Sawamura searches his face for a few seconds, before he nods jerkily. “Okay.”

Kazuya smiles, and holds up three fingers. Sawamura flicks his eyes to Kazuya’s hand, needing only a single second to understand, before he nods again.

Three words to begin with.

Three.

I like you.

Two.

Four more to keep going.

One.

“Will you marry me?”

Sawamura widens his eyes at the words they manage to say in unison, and Kazuya grins at him, drawing Sawamura into his arms with euphoric laughter bubbling past his lips. Sawamura twists his hands into the back of Kazuya’s shirt and hooks his chin over Kazuya’s shoulder, his own laughter more subdued but no less happy. Relieved.

“Yes.”

An eternity to end on.