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Just keep your cool, Satoru warned him. That’s all you need to do this week.
Megumi knows he probably wasn’t the first choice for the all-stars camp this week. It’d have been Hakari if he wasn’t on probation or Yuuta again if he wasn’t abroad or even Toge if he hadn’t been tied up with his other league. Honestly, Megumi’s surprised that Satoru didn’t just send Yuuji. He could certainly use the extra training, and it would be just like Satoru to send someone new and flashy to try and intimidate the competition. That’s certainly not an effect he could achieve by sending Megumi.
Consistency. That’s what Megumi offers. He’s dependable. He works hard. He’d die before letting his team down.
That’s why he’s still out tonight, long after all the other players have settled into their dorms for the night. Officially, camp doesn't start until tomorrow. Tonight was just supposed to be about introductions, a big team dinner for bonding and orientation purposes before starting on the week's training. Megumi finds he can’t sit still, though. He’d just meant to go for a little run to cool off before bed, but it’s quickly spiraled. It’s past dark, and Megumi is still exploring all the facilities. The camp is even bigger than he thought- professional quality. They’re lucky to be here.
He’s finally convinced himself to head inside and get a good night’s rest in preparation for tomorrow’s exhibition game, but a loud crack sends his neck twisting in the opposite direction. It booms through the empty night air, just begging for Megumi’s attention. A metal bat and a ball. It’s a sound Megumi knows better than anything else- and it meant someone else was still out practicing.
Megumi doesn’t even remember making the choice to stay out. His feet just start moving. It’s a magnetic compulsion, each swing like a little breadcrumb as Megumi drifts closer. A couple of the spotlights are overhead at the batting cages, illuminating one lone figure at the center. Even from far away, Megumi can recognize the exemplary form.
He’d never have figured it out, if not for the rigidity of the motions. The next swing is textbook perfect, yes, but there’s something sluggish about it. It’s almost as if weights have been tied to the athlete’s wrists, compression bands ribboning his arms. Megumi only knows one person who moves like that. He’s seen them play more times than he can count.
Noritoshi Kamo.
Megumi blinks a couple of times. The faded blue jeans and the sleek black t-shirt don’t look at all like him, though Megumi guesses he’s never seen him outside of uniform or athletic wear before. Is this how he usually dressed? It seemed so… modern, in comparison to how Megumi thinks of him. The way the skinny collar creeps up his neck, accentuating his already sharp features. He’s always looked a little mean, in Megumi’s opinion, but never in a scary way. This is a completely different effect. He looks totally ruthless, yet somehow more approachable at the same time.
He quickly spots Megumi watching. Megumi thinks he might offer a wave, or a hello, but instead he zeroes right back in on the batting machine, digging his heels in as he readies himself for the incoming pitch. Almost as if he’d heard Megumi’s earlier critique, he loosens his stance and lets off an easy, unfettered swing, sending the ball flying up into the top corner of the net. It’s the best he’s ever looked, without a doubt.
Show off, Megumi thinks to himself, biting his tongue. He sees why Noritoshi was sent this year in Todo’s place, especially if Todo’s wrist strain is recovering as poorly as Megumi heard.
Now that they’ve seen each other, there’s no avoiding going over and saying hi. It’d be too weird for Megumi to walk away now- like he’d been caught spying and had to retreat. He shoves his hands into his pockets and traces his sneakers down the concrete path to Noritoshi’s stall, dragging himself over. He watches as Noritoshi fusses with the controls, tapping furiously till the machine stops loudly whirring.
Megumi hovers by the entrance, resting a hand against the door. It feels weird to invade the space, but Noritoshi cocks his head with a silent invitation. Megumi steps in and presses himself into the corner of the box. Tucked with his back against the fence, Megumi is completely out of swinging proximity.
“Was wondering when I’d see you,” Noritoshi finally greets him.
Megumi flinches. That was an odd thing to say. There’s no way he could have known that Satoru would send Megumi. Megumi hadn’t even known, at least not for sure, until last week. Then again, if anyone was going to find a list of the attendees in advance, it would be the Kyoto kids. They always seem to be a step ahead on things like that- relentlessly tactical.
That, or he really did believe that Megumi was the choice. It’s a nice idea, to think he was so highly regarded, but not a likely one.
Noritoshi walks over and lays down his bat, swinging his arm methodically to relieve the tension in his shoulders. Megumi watches the muscles squeeze and contract in his back, clearly visible under his clinging shirt. It’s not a shock that Noritoshi is strong like that, of course, but Megumi’s never really had a visual on it till this moment. His muscle mass isn’t as blatant as someone like Yuuta’s, but it’s definitely there. Megumi has to tear his eyes away, too terrified to get caught staring to examine it for even a second longer.
“I wanted to get some extra practice in tonight, too,” he says lamely.
That should be obvious, but Megumi can’t really think of anything else to say. It’s not like he and Noritoshi have ever been friendly or anything. Megumi tries to think back to their last meet-up, but finds his mind coming up blank. He remembers the last Tokyo/Kyoto game had gotten heated, but he can’t remember anything specific. He’d be unsurprised though, if someone told him that the two of them had gotten into a screaming match mid-field during the game. Megumi could get pretty bad like that, in the heat of the moment- vision blotting as all his tact snuffed itself out. It was never personal.
The same couldn’t be said for Noritoshi. Things with him were always personal. He’d had a vendetta against Megumi for as long as the two of them have known each other. He probably remembers every word of their last exchange. Highlights from it are probably poised on the tip of his tongue, ammunition ready for fire.
Megumi’s not really in the mood for a fight though, at least not tonight.
Randomly, a strategical thought occurs to Megumi. Their teams are known rivals, yes, but something like that shouldn’t really matter while they’re here. This was the best of the best. Everyone would be at each other’s throats. It might not be the worst idea in the world for the two of them to actually work with each other instead of against.
Keep a cool head.
“I’ll pitch for you,” Megumi offers, eyeing the big metal machine he'd been working off. “If you want.”
“Trying to compete with your cousin, then?”
Megumi frowns. As if he could ever out-pitch Maki. He likes to practice, though. He’s been pitching for Yuuji all summer during their training sessions. It’s good to stay well-rounded.
“Never mind,” Megumi bites, the earlier proposal souring in his mouth. It wasn’t often that he offered to do something nice, especially not to one of his rivals. He wishes he could undo it, reach out into the air and snatch back his words. “Tell Todo I said hi. Was hoping to see him this week.”
The dig was unnecessary, but Megumi doesn’t regret it. He’d thought maybe that he and Noritoshi would be on similar wavelengths this week training-wise- that they’d be able to put aside the silly rivalry between their coaches to make the best out of this week- but not anymore. It’s a shame, because Noritoshi has always been the type to take things seriously, which Megumi appreciates. But if mind games are what he wants this week, that’s what he’ll get. Megumi can crank up his gate as quickly as he let it down. His guard is officially back up.
“Todo is barely aware you exist,” Noritoshi says plainly. There’s no venom to it, but Megumi bristles all the same. “But, sure. If that’s what you want.”
He pulls off his helmet, and Megumi prepares himself for a shake of long dark hair to spill out, but it never comes. Instead, it reveals a cropped, brownish crew-cut that sticks up with sweat. Megumi swallows. That’s new.
“I was supposed to be here last year,” Noritoshi explains. “But my family wouldn’t allow it. Said it was a waste of time.”
Megumi can pretty easily interpret what he’s not saying there. Something clearly has gone wrong with his family. That would be the only acceptable reason for the drastic haircut. He’s worn it long since little league, even through the stickiest of summers. Megumi doesn’t know the extent of his issues at home, but he does know that Noritoshi’s parents are extremely traditional and have certain expectations of him. They don’t attend games, and Noritoshi packs up his bag and leaves the second a winner is decided. When his teammates talk about him, it’s like they barely know him at all- and any mention of his family elicits an instant eye roll.
“You mean you could’ve spared us all the Todo and Okkotsu showdowns last season?” Megumi says lightly, shifting uncomfortably. He wants to ask what happened, but knows it’s not his place.
Noritoshi chokes out a chuckle. It’s a throaty and unnatural sound, teeming with bitterness. Megumi realizes he’s never heard him laugh before. Perhaps that was for the best.
“No, I suppose that was an inevitability.” He tilts his head back and forth, really considering it. “I heard they were insufferable last year, constantly trying to show the other up. Should that be us this year? Rivals?”
“No,” Megumi spits. “I’m here to focus on myself.”
“Good for you.”
He tucks his helmet between his hip and the crook of his elbow, leaning down to fetch his water bottle. Megumi watches with interest, glued to his spot. Good for you. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Noritoshi had always been the type to take the bait, to get his feathers rustled over the tiniest of foul comments. He wasn’t the type to return a taunt with a compliment.
Megumi clears his throat, a bit more gruffly than he means to. “I’ll get out of your hair, then.”
“No, stay.” Noritoshi tosses his helmet onto the soft flap of his duffel bag. “I’m done here anyway.”
Then what the fuck are we doing here? Megumi thinks, annoyed. Why would he want Megumi to stay if they’re not even going to practice?
Noritoshi crosses the box, settling his back against the other side of Megumi’s corner. Their shoulders practically touch. Megumi sucks in a breath, surprised by the sudden proximity. He has to shift his view all the way to the corner of his eyes just to keep Noritoshi in his sightline. If he actually looked over, he’d be breathing on him- that’s how close Noritoshi has put them.
“How’s the team?” Noritoshi asks casually, as if he didn’t have all of their statistics memorized- as if he didn’t spend inordinate amounts of his free time calculating strategies to ensure their downfall. “Gojo must be so pissed to be losing Okkotsu this season.”
“Not really,” Megumi counters, voice taking a defensive edge. “He’s the one who sent him, after all. It’s not like it’s his last season or anything. He’ll be back next year.”
“He’s dating Inumaki now, right?”
Megumi jumps. “Yeah, so?” His tone comes out even more aggressive than before.
It’s probably uncalled for, but Megumi can’t bring himself to care. People have had a lot to say about his teammates since they started seeing each other a few months ago, and Megumi was ready at all times to kick the asses of anyone who tried to stir shit up about it. Yuuta was pretty much willing to let most of it slide- saving the fight for the field, where he was sure to rub faces in the dirt- but Megumi didn’t have as much grace about it.
“Nothing,” Noritoshi shrugs. “That’s cool.”
Megumi's neck snaps to look at him, blinking in disbelief. That’s cool? Megumi highly doubts that Noritoshi has ever thought of anything as cool in his entire life. He was the antithesis of ‘cool.’
“Seriously?” Megumi barks, completely thrown.
“Yeah?” Noritoshi shakes his head, seeming slightly offended that he’s been asked about this. “I’m gay, too.”
Oh.
Megumi feels the heat slide off his skin, all the fire he’d been directing at Noritoshi extinguished in an instant. His shoulders slump as he lets the stupidity of his defensiveness sink in.
It’s not quite the only thing on his mind, though. The other thing, he’s not sure he should say. It’s not something he’s ever said, not to anyone. Not even Maki, when she asked him point-blank last year. So why would he say anything now? He couldn’t.
Suddenly, fingers brush against his. Noritoshi gently threads a couple of their fingers together- the suggestion of holding hands, but not quite. The back of their hands just barely touch as Noritoshi rubs his thumb softly up and down the outer edge of Megumi’s index finger. Surely, he feels Megumi’s hand start to shake, but he doesn’t pull away.
Megumi didn’t need to say anything after all, then. Noritoshi has already figured it out.
“It’s okay,” he says knowingly. “My teammates don’t know about me either.”
Mine do, Megumi wants to say. They’re just too polite to say anything. They watch me ogling Yuuji every day through practice until it’s so pathetic they have to avert their eyes.
A prickle of tears starts stinging at Megumi’s eyes. It’s not as scary as he thought it would be, hearing it out loud. It is a relief, though. Someone knows the truth, and the world didn’t collapse in on itself. Nothing changed at all. Everything still looks the same, still feels the same. A tear streams down one of Megumi’s cheeks- the one out of Noritoshi’s view, thankfully- and Megumi is content to let it fall.
“How’d you know?” he asks, just barely able to keep his voice even.
“Last year when your team won the championship, you looked over at Okkotsu,” Noritoshi says gently. He's so quiet that even if the other boxes were full tonight, no one would be able to hear them. “And Okkotsu looked over at Inumaki.”
Megumi’s stomach drops. Noritoshi could say a lot more, and Megumi is beyond grateful that he's choosing not to. Megumi can remember that moment in hauntingly vivid detail. If Noritoshi had really been watching, he'd have seen the exact moment when Megumi’s face fell. At the time, He hadn’t realized that Toge and Yuuta had feelings for each other. Up until then they’d been dancing around each other awkwardly, shying away from touches and avoiding eye-contact. Megumi hadn’t been able to recognize it as flirting. But after Yuuta made the winning catch that night, they fell right into each other's arms and suddenly the whole thing became undeniable. Megumi was heartbroken.
“That’s over now,” Megumi says firmly. “I’m happy for them.”
He means it, too. The pair started dating shortly after, and Megumi immediately banished the little crush he’d had on Yuuta from his mind forever. Toge and Yuuta were perfect together. They were happy together. Megumi would never infringe on something like that.
“This is weird,” Megumi acknowledges, skin starting to crawl. “Why are we talking about this?”
“Why not?” Noritoshi answers, not at all put out by the baffled and accusatory tone of Megumi’s voice. “We’re friends.”
“Friends? ” Megumi balks, all but laughing at the absurdity of it. “I’m pretty sure the last time we talked, you were detailing all the ways you were going to destroy me.”
“Yeah, that sounds like me,” Noritoshi admits, finally pulling his hand back. The loss of contact makes Megumi’s stomach lurch, but he doesn’t do anything about it. What could he do? “Being enemies with everyone… it didn’t really get me anywhere, did it?" he floats, shaking his head. "Well. Things are different now.”
“What happened?” Megumi blurts, unable to bite his tongue for even a second longer.
Noritoshi’s father is a pretty well known politician. It’s not a well-kept secret that he’s unhappy his son spends all his free time playing baseball, despite the fact that Noritoshi pulls top grades and has won several academic awards. Megumi had always assume that Noritoshi meant to follow in his footsteps, or at least, that’s the impression he’d gotten. Otherwise, what would be the reason for all the stoicism and formality? Megumi figured the reason he was always so hostile and assertive on the field was that he was being consumed by other, bigger worries. Something really intense must have happened to spur such a marked change in him.
Megumi prepares himself to be brushed off. Noritoshi has every right to get defensive and send him away for asking. Instead, he sighs.
“I have a little brother,” Noritoshi explains. “Half-brother. He’s more promising, apparently. My father and his family are pulling their support of me.”
“What?” Megumi balks. His family wouldn’t really do that, right? Over baseball? It's so unbelievable that it takes Megumi a second to get it together. “I mean- I’m sorry to hear that.”
Noritoshi shrugs again. The gesture still looks so foreign on him. Anything relaxed does, but there he is: leaning back against the fence like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“It’s fine. The school doesn’t want to lose me, so they put me on scholarship.” He recites the facts to Megumi without so much as a hint of emotion. “You’ll see my new jersey tomorrow. I’m taking my mother’s name from now on. Not theirs.”
He changed his jersey? Already? When did all of this happen? They’d seen the Kyoto kids at a scratch game that Gojo organized not even a month ago. Surely Megumi would have noticed this difference in him then. The haircut looks brand new, too. If this development was recent, how is he so calm and collected about all of it? Impressing his family once meant everything to him- that was obvious to every single person who knew him. How had that all gone away in just a few weeks? Megumi feels his jaw drop, cool night air rushing into his mouth.
“Stop that,” Noritoshi demands, brow creasing. “It’s a good thing. I’m free now.”
Megumi stiffens. He somehow knows the exact connotation that comes with that word. Free. That’s what had changed in Noritoshi- why he was so light and easy now. He wasn’t weighed down by the expectations of his family, of his name.
That’s a freedom Megumi will never know. Between his family’s name, his father’s infamy, and his association with Gojo, there will never be a moment where he is not heavily scrutinized. Eyes have been on him since the second he picked up a baseball bat. There’s not a single name he could put on the back of his jersey that wouldn’t come with a mountain of expectations.
Megumi had always felt the weight of that somewhere in the back of his head, but it’s never been as palpable as it is at this moment. Noritoshi had the same burden to bear, but he’d always struggled with it more than Megumi had. Maybe, somehow, that had been something of a comfort to him, to know that there was someone out there who had it worse than he did.
That’s all over now. Megumi is now the only person he knows who will never truly be free- at least, not in the way that Noritoshi is using the word.
“I don’t see a point in dwelling on it,” Noritoshi adds. “Not when there’s work to be done.”
Megumi rattles out a breath. That’s it then. Noritoshi has decided his path, and all that’s left for him to do is continue down it. He’s choosing baseball. He’s choosing himself.
When Megumi finally peeks over at him, still aggressively aware of how close they are, he can’t keep the awe off of his face. Megumi has been running away from his past for as long as he can remember. Noritoshi has left his in the dust within a matter of days.
“Let’s do our best then,” Megumi tells him. It’s more a promise to himself than an agreement with his new friend, but either way, he feels it needed to be said.
“We will,” Noritoshi agrees solemnly, ever serious. “Hey, Megumi?”
“Yeah?”
The distance is closed between them instantly. Noritoshi has hooked around, hand on either side of Megumi as he leans in. Megumi doesn’t even have a chance to gasp before their lips are pressed together. Noritoshi is warm and confident and not at all invasive. The kiss is firm but gentle, giving Megumi every opportunity to pull away. It leaves no room for misinterpretation, though. His intentions are extremely clear.
"Was that okay?" he asks, leveraging his weight on the fence as Megumi squirms nervously beneath him.
“Yes,” he says instinctively, dizzy from the collision. Noritoshi is a couple of inches taller than he is, so he has to look up to do it.
“Yes?” Noritoshi tries to confirm. Clearly, he doesn’t believe it.
“Wait,” Megumi breathes, a sickening realization turning in his stomach. “There’s, um. It's just- I have someone waiting for me.”
Stupid. Megumi shouldn’t have said that. There’s a boy in front of him- a living, breathing boy- who actually wants to kiss him. That’s never happened before. Megumi’s been given a golden opportunity and he’s blowing it.
Noritoshi just shakes his head, putting an extra couple of inches between them without hesitation.
“Yuuji Itadori,” he deduces. “Transfer student. Catcher. Home-run record holder at his old high school.”
Megumi bites his lip, embarrassed. Noritoshi shouldn’t know any of that, at least not yet. Yuuji’s records aren’t official, at least not since he’s transferred. “Yeah. We’re uh- well not yet, but I-”
“Not yet?” Noritoshi presses. Megumi shifts his eyes down to their feet, and then back up again. He knows how ridiculous it sounds. He and Yuuji aren’t dating. Being here with Noritoshi isn’t cheating. But it doesn’t exactly feel right, either. Not that Megumi is making any real effort to put a stop to it, though. He’s too curious about this new version of Noritoshi to pull away. “You haven’t told him?”
Actually, Megumi has been waiting for Yuuji to make his move. He hasn’t figured it out yet, not like Megumi has. It’s obvious to the people around them, how they feel about each other, but Yuuji has always been on the oblivious side. Megumi doesn’t want to force the realization though- it seems like a conclusion that a person needs to come to on their own. If Megumi came to Yuuji right now and said he had feelings for him, he wouldn’t know what to do with it. Megumi risked hurting Yuuji if he acted too quickly.
It's a good thing Megumi is patient, then. For Yuuji, he can be. Yuuji is like a break in the clouds, a ray of sunlight that cuts through Megumi's bleak fucking life and to shine directly onto his face. Even if Yuuji doesn’t understand it yet, the two of them are connected in a way that goes much deeper than a normal friendship. It’s a level beyond heads and hearts- its soul.
He’d be lying, though, if he said he enjoyed waiting. Sometimes he feels like he’s permanently stalled at a red light, just waiting to receive permission for his real life to begin. It's been months since any progress was made between them.
“I'm going to,” Megumi promises. “One day.”
“One day,” Noritoshi repeats. “So you’re sure? Sure that he feels the same way?”
Megumi nods, though he can’t find the words to describe it. It’s a gut feeling. The way Yuuji looks back at him every time he tries to walk away, the way his smile spreads goofily every time Megumi enters a room, the way he hangs on Megumi’s every word like he’s being told the secrets of the universe. It’s true that Megumi is the only one aware of his crush, but he knows with certainty that Yuuji feels the same way he does.
“I hate to be the one to tell you this,” Noritoshi says sadly. "But nothing in life is a sure bet. Not until it's already happened."
Megumi's chest seizes. He knows that they're not just talking about Megumi and Yuuji anymore- they're talking about Noritoshi and his family, too. Noritoshi spent years of his life thinking he'd be his family's legacy, and had worked hard accordingly. But now, all that striving and determination left him with nothing. Megumi knows that his own situation isn't quite the same, but it's unsettling to realize that Noritoshi is right. Megumi might think that he knows what's in Yuuji's heart, but he doesn't. The only thing he knows for sure is how he feels about Yuuji.
"Do you want me to go?" Noritoshi asks, thoughtfully continuing to keep his distance.
Megumi shakes his head, not missing a beat. In spite of himself, he doesn't want this to be over yet- not even a little bit. If Noritoshi pulls away now, he'll be crestfallen.
"Why?" the other boy inquires.
Because this doesn’t feel like being with Yuuji.
It feels like last year, months before he and Yuuji ever met. It feels like sitting in the last row of the bus next to Yuuta Okkotsu, several seats away from everyone else, after a late night game that went four innings over. They were both exhausted, practically leaning on each other for support to keep upright. It was before Yuuta and Toge had started going out, so it wasn’t weird that Megumi kept noticing the way that Yuuta smelled like sweat and detergent and chewing gum. He was nearing the end of his growth spurt at the time, so he wasn't fully aware of his size yet- shoulders so broad that Megumi was basically pinned between him and the cold metal bar beneath the window. Not that Megumi complained. When Yuuta spoke, his voice was deeper than Megumi had ever heard it, raspy from the day's effort without losing even a touch of its gentleness.
“You were so fucking good tonight.” Yuuta had told him, eyes glittering as they caught the glow of the passing streetlights. Something about the way his face flickered in and out of shadows made Megumi’s stomach twist, and not just from the praise. “So good,” he’d whispered wetly, placing a warm hand on Megumi’s knee.
It made something pool in Megumi’s gut, something gooey and creeping and that left him shuddering out a breath unconsciously. His head rushed. Dizzily, the realization finally took over. He’d never looked at a teammate like that before, at anyone at all for that matter, but suddenly- oh. Oh.
That’s what this felt like. Stuck to the leather seats of the bus with Yuuta Okkotsu. Pressed between the fence and Noritoshi Kamo, with his fingers hooked into the chainlink. The two things are the same. The reeling in his head and the churning of his stomach are an exact match.
This hasn’t happened with Yuuji, at least not yet. The opportunity has never come up. Megumi won’t even let his mind get that far, not while he knows that Yuuji doesn’t understand what’s happening between them yet.
But Megumi would be lying to himself if he said he hasn’t been chasing this feeling. He’s been willing it to happen between him and Yuuji since they met. He thought that maybe, when the new season started, he could recreate the magic of the last-row, away-game bus ride home that he’d once had with Yuuta. He thought if he could manufacture the circumstances just right, Yuuji would have to come to the same realization that he did.
Megumi had never once considered that he could feel this way under a different set of circumstances.
He and Yuuji had had lots of late night practices together over the last couple of months. They’ve shared batting cages. They’ve talked in low voices and shared intimate details about their home lives.
But through all of that, they’ve never had this feeling.
Noritoshi can see the wobble on Megumi’s face- Megumi can practically feel him noticing it. He sees the opening and moves in swiftly, closing the space between the two of them again. He’s not bold and fast like he was last time. The two of them still aren’t touching- they’re just doing everything but. Noritoshi’s body is just a graze away from his. The slightest intrusion could send them over the precipice. A gust of wind, a sudden movement, a little push.
“Can I tell you a secret, Megumi?” he whispers, breath warm.
Megumi. There it is again. They’d never been on a first name basis before today. There’s something about the way he says it, almost like an insult but not quite. Almost something resembling a cloying pet name, like he was just doing it to appease Megumi and not because he actually wanted to. Still, it sends pricks of goosebumps down Megumi's arms.
“There’s no prize for being good.”
The words pierce Megumi’s skin, making him shiver. That’s not true, he wants to say.
He remembers Gojo’s words again. Just keep your cool. He didn’t come here to betray Yuuji, if that’s even what it could be perceived as. Megumi is steady. He’s dependable. He’s consistent. One moment of weakness with Noritoshi wasn’t enough to change that.
“That’s what I’ve learned,” he continues lazily. It’s just as cutting as the way he once barked orders and rattled off penalty accusations during games. This is a completely different kind of concise, and yet- it doesn’t seem at all out of character. This side of him must have been just underneath the surface the entire time. “So you could spend the whole week being dutiful and working hard, or you could bum around. Gojo won’t know the difference.”
He would, Megumi assures himself, holding steady.
“And you could do the honorable thing and turn me down,” he continues, tone unchanging. There’s no trace of judgment or disgust to it, making the remark with complete and total fairness. “Just in case your new crush comes calling when you get back from camp next week.”
I should, Megumi reasons with himself.
“Or,” he says slowly, creaking an eye open to look down at Megumi. “You could just let me kiss you.”
Megumi feels his resolve slipping away. He returns Noritoshi's gaze, desperately searching his face for a reason to say no. He can't find one. There is no cruelness to his offer, no deviousness. He's laying himself bare here. He's laying himself bare for Megumi.
“I don’t understand,” he says, heart pounding in his chest. How is Noritoshi possibly so steady right now, after revealing his intentions like this? Isn’t he even a bit worried that Megumi isn’t interested in him? After their history together, there’s no reason that he should be. “You hate me. You’ve always hated me.”
“You made it pretty easy,” Noritoshi says, leaning in and pressing the words into his ears. “There were so many reasons to hate you. You have everything. The prestigious bloodline, the perfect genetics, the famous coach. You go to the top school, with the top team, the best resources. Everything is in the palm of your hand. And just in case all that wasn’t enough, you get to be beautiful, too.”
Megumi actually gasps. Beautiful? In what world? Megumi knew how off-putting his looks could be to people. His features were infuriatingly delicate and yet entirely too sharp at the same time. His hair was unruly at best. His height and his build were embarrassingly average. People had called him pretty before, but only as a slur. He’s too pretty for baseball. Look over here, pretty boy. How ‘bout I pitch a fastball right into your pretty little face?
“Has anyone told you that, yet?” Noritoshi asks, tracing a thumb down Megumi’s cheek with gentle reverence. Megumi shivers. “Or is that just another first I’ve stolen from you tonight?”
“Noritoshi,” Megumi whines, the name coming out ten shades of desperate. “You’re- You’re not–” Megumi sputters, too distracted to get the words out. “You’re not yourself right now. Everything with your family- you’re not thinking clearly.”
“You’re right. I’m not myself.” Noritoshi shakes his head, the beginnings of a smirk creeping up the corners of his mouth. “Would that really be the worst thing in the world?”
His face cracks wide open with the smile. It makes him look like a completely different person- lively and buoyant and free. Megumi has seen Noritoshi smile over the years, but never like this. This is completely unlike the smug satisfaction that came with him stealing a base or faking out a pitcher. Whatever this is- it's just joy, plain and simple.
“No,” Megumi answers helplessly.
Noritoshi takes the admission as a granting of permission, sweeping forward and grazing their lips together. Megumi wriggles under the touch, quickly tilting his head up to make the connection easier. This round of kisses is not at all like the last one- it’s slow and measured and teasing. It's half of what Noritoshi was giving him before, which just makes Megumi hungrier for the real thing.
Noritoshi doesn’t make it easy on him, though. He leans in and gives Megumi’s bottom lip a little nip, dragging it away with his teeth until it snaps back into place. Megumi let out a pathetic little moan, instinctively bobbing his head forward. He doesn't want the contact to end.
The other boy meets him halfway, fiercely pressing their lips together over and over again. The spattering of kisses sends Megumi into a frenzy, frantic and desperate for more. The way that Noritoshi never lets their lips touch for more than a second or two at a time- it's absolutely maddening. Megumi can feel himself growing flustered, more frustrated by the second. He wants more. He wants to really kiss, not just play tag.
“Megumi,” Noritoshi stops short, pulling back. He reaches his hand between them and spreads his fingers over Megumi’s throat to lock him in place, firmly pressing his neck against the fence. It’s not forceful, but it’s steady. Megumi could break out of the grip if he wanted to, can still breathe fully, but the slight bit of pressure is strangely soothing. Megumi hums beneath the touch, straining slightly against it just to remind Noritoshi that he’d still like to get closer.
Wait, what am I doing? Megumi realizes dimly, the thought already starting to get lost in the sensation of cool fingers against his flushing skin. This is Noritoshi. Noritoshi Kamo. You hate each other’s guts.
…Right?
“We’ve got a whole week.”
Megumi swallows, nodding.
“Okay,” he replies, mouth suddenly feeling very dry. Blinking, he tries to figure out Noritoshi’s meaning. “A whole week,” he echoes. “What does that mean?”
“It means whatever you want it to mean,” Noritoshi chuckles.
This time when he laughs, it is completely natural. He shakes his shoulders with it, the laughter hissing as it leaks out from between his teeth. It makes Megumi’s heart squeeze. Again, it’s an exact match to a feeling that Megumi already knows- a feeling, he realizes with horror, he’d previously only associated with Yuuji.
“I want you,” Noritoshi tells him confidently, laying it all out on the table once and for all. “I’ve always wanted you.”
Megumi’s mind races, trying to put together all the puzzle pieces he’s just been handed. Noritoshi is an entirely new person now. He lights up all of Megumi’s senses. The desire that came with Yuuta and the affection that came with Yuuji- all at once. Noritoshi is all of this, and he actually wants Megumi back.
“So tell me, Megumi,” he says, leaning his forehead against Megumi’s. He finally drops his hand, sliding it down Megumi’s throat and resting on his chest, right above his heart. His grip is firm, and Megumi’s heartbeat is steady. A sure bet. “What is it that you want?”
Megumi doesn’t even let himself think about it.
“This.”