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Kazuya didn't really know when or how, but one day he suddenly realized that letting Sawamura sleep in his room when the first year had a perfectly functional bed just a few doors over on the floor below was not exactly considered normal. So what if Kuramochi snored? So what if Kazuya was the only one in his room with the upperclassman having moved out a few weeks before? That was no excuse, none at all, to let the noisy pitcher take up one of the beds in his asylum.
Kazuya had to remind himself daily that his reason for allowing Sawamura to share a room with him was not so that Kazuya could watch him sleep.
He didn’t understand the thoughts and impulses that bombarded him without end: like whenever Sawamura kicked his blanket off and Kazuya itched to cover him up again; or wondering where he left something and having it handed to him by a grinning Sawamura and feeling the urge to ruffle his hair; or staying up late, be it studying or checking the scorebook or just thinking up new strategies, and unavoidably ending up looking at Sawamura's stupid sleeping face as the first year drooled all over the pillow, his soft snores breaking the silence of the room.
What was this feeling, where did it come from?
He dismissed some of it as concern for Sawamura as a pitcher. But then why would his heart speed up whenever he gently combed his fingers through that fluffy brown hair and Sawamura's eyes closed as he tilted his head towards him for more?
He pinned some of it on simply looking out for a younger student. But then how come he could tease Sawamura to the point of the first year's cheeks reddening with a blush that spread even further down, sometimes as far as his neck, and tears welling in the corners of his eyes, making Kazuya stop in his laughter to think 'how cute'?
He brushed some of it off as concern for another human being; a normal thing in a dorm room full of teenage boys. But then why did he have trouble letting Sawamura go after an incredibly awkward at first, but warming over as soon as Sawamura put his arms around him hug when he found the first year alone outside at two in the morning, muffling sobs by biting into his fist?
He blamed some of it on that ridiculous longing for a friend, a real friend who would never leave, that Kazuya had been suppressing since he was a child. But then what was that heat pooling at the bottom of his abdomen whenever they changed together for a bath and he caught a glimpse of Sawamura's bare back, of his lean shoulders and the jut of his hips, the full length of his clothes-free flexible yet strong legs?
Kazuya was not an idiot, though. He was awkward and insecure when it came to things like his own feelings and expressing them into words, but after all the signs, after all the time he spent analyzing every bit of information that his body and mind supplied him with, he had no problems piecing the puzzles together.
He was in love with Sawamura Eijun.
It wasn't a crush; Kazuya didn't consider himself the type to open himself up like that. It had to be serious if Sawamura, of all people, had managed to sneak through Kazuya’s walls and into his heart. He didn't plan to do anything about it, however.
It was too soon. The feelings too raw, too fresh, too new altogether. Frankly, Kazuya was getting a headache just thinking of the endless possibilities this revelation could bring, and it always left uneasy tension in his muscles whenever Sawamura was around, but once Kazuya knew the truth, he couldn't force himself to keep his distance from the pitcher.
He carried on like usual, maybe avoiding a little touch here, brushing off a conversation there, and taking the time to bathe at different hour. But whenever night came and eleven struck the clock, his hand shook slightly when he was reaching for the knob to open the door to Sawamura's smile, bright and startling, crawling into Kazuya's heart through the cracks in the imaginary box he had locked his feelings in. And every night, as he stepped to the side to let Sawamura inside, Kazuya realized how little power he had over the storm that raged inside his chest.
Controlling himself, with full knowledge of his feelings, was a lot harder than Kazuya had expected. He noticed how his breath got stuck in his throat at Sawamura's smiles, or how his arm itched whenever it brushed against Sawamura's skin. All of a sudden, Kazuya was failing to focus on catching the pitches when Sawamura's leg was raised high up off the mound and his eyes glowed fierce gold; instead imagining looking into them from much closer angle, with that lean, muscled thigh slung over his shoulder.
Over time, Kazuya found that he was unable to keep the leash on his feelings short, and his control began to slip. He made sure it wasn't anything obvious. Every now and then, he'd lean over to whisper a teasing remark, making sure to – 'accidentally', of course – brush his lips over the shell of the first year's ear. The thrill of getting away with something he wasn’t meant to do burned pleasantly in his veins. The blush on Sawamura's face was the finest reward, making Kazuya smirk in victory as the warm feeling he began to associate with the first year's closeness settled comfortably low in his stomach.
Other times he'd let his fingers brush the sun-kissed skin: sometimes in the crook of Sawamura's neck when he was retracting his arm from a friendly headlock; over the sensitive underside of Sawamura's elbow when he was correcting his pitching form; the back of Sawamura's neck, right below the hairline when he was done with playfully ruffling it. Sawamura always shivered, just the tiniest bit, and Kazuya took pleasure in watching Sawamura's shoulders tense each time.
He slowly stopped caring about holding back the impulses he had before. If Sawamura kicked off his blanket, Kazuya picked it up and covered him again, plucking the manga volume from Sawamura's limp hand after the first year fell asleep reading. If Sawamura left his carrots behind at dinner, Kazuya traded him his tomatoes, hiding a smile behind his bowl of rice as he watched Sawamura shovel them with delight shining in his gold eyes. If Sawamura forgot his shampoo, Kazuya graciously lent him his, smirking to himself the next day at breakfast when he could clearly smell the faint familiar fragrance around the pitcher.
Day by day, week by week, Kazuya's fear of being found out, of having to face Sawamura and actually admit he was in love with him, was overshadowed by the thrill of the game he played. He was growing bolder, sometimes even scaring himself, but nothing ever happened; he was safe.
Until one day he went too far.
It was night, and Sawamura was curled on the bed opposite of Kazuya's. Kazuya had long since learned not to pay any attention to the sobs that came from that part of the room as Sawamura bawled his eyes out over another of shoujo manga. For a while now though, it had been quiet, too quiet. Kazuya looked over, and he noticed that Sawamura had already fallen asleep. Already used to it, Kazuya rose from his bed and walked over.
Tears had dried up on Sawamura's cheeks and his eyes were slightly puffed up and red, but he looked peaceful. A light smile was ghosting over his lips as Sawamura nuzzled his cheek into the pillow. Kazuya stared. Sawamura looked so open and vulnerable, yet so comfortable, that something twisted in Kazuya's chest and tightened his throat with emotion.
He swallowed hard and, to distract himself, he picked Sawamura's manga and covered him in a blanket. Inevitably, his eyes returned to Sawamura's face.
One of Sawamura's hands was curled under his chin, the other laying flat on the pillow next to his face. His freshly washed hair framed his head messily and a lone strand tickled Sawamura's nose. Without thinking, Kazuya reached over and brushed it aside lightly.
The thought hit him without any prior warning, and Kazuya froze right over the sleeping first year. His hand hung motionless in the air and blood pounded noisily in his ears.
What if–
Kazuya looked down at Sawamura.
His eyes trailed over to the slightly parted lips, the sound of his own heart so loud he could swear it'll wake Sawamura right up. But it didn't, and Kazuya swallowed hard.
He could–
Just a light brush of lips, just enough to feel the soft skin, just for a second, no more...
But would Sawamura feel it? Would he wake up? What would he say? What would he do?
Kazuya’s heart hammered against his rib cage. Feeling a little short on breath, he inhaled a few times to clear his head and chase away the dizziness.
He could always say Sawamura dreamed it. Or better tease him about dreaming of Kazuya. He smirked a little. Yes, that would rile Sawamura up enough to take his mind off of it.
Once he made up his mind, the full extent of what he planned to do made his pulse quicken and his shoulders tense. Kazuya had never kissed anyone before, but if it was that nerve-wracking every time, he couldn't see himself doing it any time soon after this.
Finally gathering all his courage, he propped one knee on the side of the bed and supporting his weight on the hand he put on the other side of Sawamura's body. Heart beating wildly, he leaned down until their faces were only centimetres apart. Softly, afraid to put more pressure in case Sawamura woke up, Kazuya touched their lips together. It lasted only a second, and no matter how much he wished to linger, Kazuya knew he couldn't. He was already backing away when a hand on the back of his neck stopped him. Feeling his blood freeze in horror, Kazuya noticed that Sawamura’s eyes were wide open.
Panic struck every muscle in Kazuya's body and he stiffened waiting for the punch, the harsh words, the accusatory glare – anything – but it never came. Sawamura's eyes gleamed warmly and his lips were quirked in a smile that made Kazuya's heart beat in a soothing, serene rhythm. He felt the thumb at the side of his neck stroke the skin in a gentle caress and with sheer will suppressed a shiver, glancing down at Sawamura incredulously.
"Finally," Sawamura said, his grin widening. "I've been waiting for this for far too long, Miyuki Kazuya."
Sawamura lunged from the bed, pulling Kazuya down by the neck at the same time, and caught his lips in another kiss. This time, though, it wasn't just a brush of lips. It was hard pressure and eagerness, and as they fell to the covers together, Kazuya let himself be swallowed by everything he'd been suppressing for all these months and bit into Sawamura's lips with the same passion. All of his previous concerns disappeared and when their tongues touched and breaths mingles together into one, hot white thrill and excitement sending a shiver down his spine and raising hairs on his arms. Kazuya knew for sure:
He was in love with Sawamura Eijun.
And judging by the arms pulling him closer and lips stealing kisses from his own – Sawamura Eijun had feelings for him, too.
Kazuya smirked, at the breathless gasp that left Sawamura's mouth as he nipped at the line of his jaw.
Just a little bit.