Work Text:
"You know, sometimes I wish you were taller than me." Eijun's voice is muffled against his chest and Kazuya feels himself let out an involuntary chuckle at the statement.
"I am taller than you, though." he says, carding through the back of Eijun's hair, eliciting a shudder from the boy. He grumbles in response, huffing a little before he lifts his head from Kazuya's chest to catch his gaze with golden orbs.
"Not by much though.” Eijun exhales, a little forcefully and his eyes fall away from Kazuya’s face again. Kazuya misses the attention straight away. “I love hugging you like this, when I can lay my head here," he sprawls his left hand on Kazuya's chest, a possessive gesture that makes the catcher shiver.
"Listening to your heartbeat calms me down," he adds, quietly as he looks down to his own hand. Kazuya inhales sharply, feeling the heat of a blush racing along his neckline. Eijun buries his face back into Kazuya’s chest and inhales deeply, a shuddering breath as he snuggles closer.
Eijun’s pure and unabashed honesty will one day surely mean the death for him, Kazuya knows this.
Honestly, if someone told him a couple of months ago that he’d come back to his room one afternoon to Eijun sitting idly on his desk, baseball in his hand, twirling it with his fingers, waiting for him, and that Kazuya’d make his way straight into the pitcher's waiting arms, he would have laughed in their face.
But here he is, an armful of Eijun wrapped in his embrace, his own nose buried in dark chestnut hair that smells like their generic shampoo but still so much like Eijun.
The pitcher had long claimed his spot in Kazuya’s heart, stubborn and dead-set on making it his home. In just the same ferocity he’d wrapped his legs around Kazuya’s middle when he was barely close enough to the desk Eijun’d been occupying for a while already as it seems.
And he hasn't let him go since, not even for a minute. Kazuya’s getting worried. Eijun is clingy, that's no surprise, but something feels off and a lot wrong today.
“Is something the matter?” Kazuya asks quietly, his lips ghosting over the crown of Eijun’s head as he speaks. A barely there touch on the unkempt hair. Now that he thinks about it, it does look like Eijun’s been carding his hands through his messy hair in a nervous manner.
Eijun nods at his question, but doesn't continue to elaborate any further. Instead he pulls Kazuya even closer to himself, if that's at all possible and sighs deeply again, burying his nose in Kazuya’s orange hoodie.
That’s another thing Kazuya hadn't been expecting. For all the brash loudness Eijun radiates, there are moments like this where he is uncharacteristically silent, and completely withdrawn. He barely speaks then and his smiles are few and far between.
It feels so unlike Eijun that Kazuya can’t help but be concerned each and every time, no matter how trivial it may seem. Whenever it happens though, Eijun seeks Kazuya out like a boat lost at sea searching desperately for the lighthouse on the shore as to not crash and burn.
And Kazuya, for all he claims to be an unfeeling block of ice who cares about nothing and no one except baseball, is more than willing to accommodate him, no matter what.
“I’m here if you want to talk about whatever's bothering you, alright?” Yet another thing Kazuya couldn't have expected. At all. He’s talking about feelings of all things. And he willingly offers to talk about them too.
It was just as surprising for himself as it was for Eijun, who’d grinned like a kid getting ice cream for dinner the first few times it happened. Now he’s still smiling when they dive into the feelings-territory, basking in the comfort and attention Kazuya pays him each and every time.
Back in his room, Eijun nods again- and sighs again. And Kazuya worries. Eijun’s hands have a death-grip on the back of his hoodie and his legs are all the way wrapped around Kazuya’s waist, crossed at his back. Honestly, that can’t be all that comfortable, he thinks. But he doesn't say anything.
Instead he cards his hand through Eijun’s hair, his other caressing the pitchers back, tracing circles with his fingers. Eijun shivers at his touch and squirms a little, but squeezes Kazuya even tighter.
It’s almost a little uncomfortable, Kazuya thinks, and he worries. Worries so much right now.
He obviously doesn't want to pressure Eijun into talking to him, and he knows the pitcher would tell him in a heartbeat if he insisted, but that’s not the way Kazuya wants to do this.
If Eijun is going to tell him what's on his mind, it's on his own terms, not Kazuya’s. Still, Kazuya really fucking worries. Of course he does. Yet there is nothing he can do but hold Eijun. So he does.
Of course he does.
An alarm bell in his head starts screaming at him when he feels Eijun shake. At first it starts subtle, a small hiccup that could have been just that. But it quickly evolves into something much stronger and Kazuya feels his blood run cold like ice in his veins.
Eijun is crying.
Eijun is crying in his arms right now and Kazuya has not a single clue as to why.
“Eijun?” he starts and tries to put some distance between their faces so he can look him in the eyes, but Eijun violently shakes his head and holds him even tighter. Not a good idea then, Kazuya notes, but the discomfort in his chest grows steadily with every shake of Eijun’s body.
It's certainly not the first time Eijun has cried in his arms. He seeks out Kazuya’s comfort like a moth drawn to a flame, but usually he knows what it’s about.
Today he doesn’t.
Today, all he got was “come to ur room pls” texted almost immediately after practice and a clingy Eijun who's now resorted to crying in his arms. The air in the room feels heavy and Kazuya’s chest tightens with concern as the minutes pass on with no sight of any improvement whatsoever.
But he stays patient, holding the boy in his arms as close as he physically can while sobs wreck Eijun’s body. It’s heart wrenching, especially not knowing the cause and Kazuya feels tears sting at the back of his eyes. He looks up to the ceiling, tries to blink them away, but Eijun seems to take it as him trying to move away from him, so he whines.
And it sounds so broken, so utterly heartbroken, Kazuya doesn't know what to do, or what to make of it. He only hopes no one decides to come to his room for a while. Prays to whoever’s listening that they remain undisturbed.
“I’m here, Eijun. I am not going anywhere, okay?” his own voice sounds thick with tears he hasn't even shed. Eijun makes another noise Kazuya can’t quite figure out and grabs another handful of Kazuya’s hoodie, pulling and squeezing.
Kazuya’s sure it’ll be a little stretched in that place, but he really couldn't care less right now. He makes the split-second decision in his head, lowers his hands to Eijun’s thighs and lifts him from the table and into his arms with ease.
The baseball Eijun had cradled in his hands when Kazuya had entered the room lies on the table long since forgotten.
Eijun is a little heavier than he looks, but still Kazuya holds him up almost effortlessly. At first Eijun whines again, and it sounds even worse than before, but he holds tight, his arms immediately wrapping themselves around Kazuya’s neck to hold himself up.
He looks at Kazuya then, just for a moment before he buries his face back into the crook of Kazuya’s neck, but Kazuya sees the pain in those golden eyes he’s grown to love so much, dimmed with sadness and … fear? Some sort of panic?
Kazuya isn't sure what it is, what it means, but he hates it nonetheless.
He walks over to his bunk bed then, slowly taking one step at a time to make sure Eijun doesn't suddenly slip from his grasp considering he's still shivering and shaking in his arms.
Kazuya thanks the lucky stars to have gotten the bottom bed as he eyes the ladder with disdain. He sits down on the mattress, his thighs barely straining beneath their combined weight, and he manages to lower them safely onto his bed.
Eijun is half sitting, half lying in his lap now, his legs still crossed at Kazuya’s back. The heels dig a little into the small of Kazuya’s back, but he finds he doesn't mind all that much. All he cares about is making sure Eijun feels safe.
He does almost hit his head on the frame of the upper bed as he leans back again though, but thankfully manages to avoid a bump by a hair. Almost literally, actually.
As time carries on, and Eijun doesn't seem like he'll stop crying any time soon, Kazuya continues to feel more and more uneasy. What he does continue, are his soft reassurances, his soft mumbles of “It’s going to be okay, I’m here” and “I’ve got you” into Eijun’s hair right above the ear, so he's sure he can hear him.
But somehow Kazuya feels this is making it worse rather than better.
Kazuya decides to lean against the wall as best as he can with a pair of feet at his back, to give himself a break from sitting up, and the slightly reclined positioning gives Eijun the chance to sprawl himself across Kazuya’s chest to— okay, that’s got to hurt, Kazuya thinks.
Eijun wastes not time wrapping himself around Kazuya’s middle like a koala, wriggling his arms beneath Kazuya’s back. It’s definitely not the most comfortable position.
To no one's surprise though, Eijun has always been flexible, so he doesn't even seem to notice the awkward positioning he managed to get himself into.
Kazuya barely resists the small chuckle bubbling inside his chest. In any other situation, he’d find the current predicament they found themselves in absolutely adorable.
It’s all Kazuya can try to do, find any shred of humor or rather comfort for himself in this situation and cling onto it like a lifeline so he doesn't break down at the sight of Eijun so utterly broken in his arms right alongside with him.
He feels his skin itch with curiosity and his heart burns with an overwhelming need to protect Eijun from whatever it is that’s bothering him this much. Or perhaps even whoever is responsible. He can only guess what happened to get Eijun to this point, and nothing his brain comes up with makes him feel any less vengeful.
The thought that somebody could be responsible for Eijun feeling this way has Kazuya spiraling into a deep pit of fury he’s not sure he can escape from if it turns out to be the cause. He’s always been protective of Eijun, ever since he saw the more vulnerable side of him.
Back when he had the yips, Kazuya had seen it for the first time, more deeply than ever before and a feeling had spread itself in his chest.
He later recognized it, with Kuramochi’s help no less, as a form of deep care and intense protectiveness. The beginning of something far deeper than friendship.
So the thought that it wasn't something, but somebody making Eijun cry like this? It has him seething, an ugly heat of resentment rising in his stomach.
Kazuya is not sure if he recognizes that feeling.
He won’t make himself question it right now.
“Kazuya,” Eijun whispers suddenly, or more like whines into his neck, his voice hoarse and utterly wrecked. It’s barely audible, but Kazuya hears him anyway. It pulls him out of the spiral in his mind, shoots him back into the here and now, making him face the more pressing matter at hand.
The matter at hand being his non-responsive partner so completely broken by whatever occurred.
He’s highly alert suddenly, stopping his idle motions on Eijun’s back to focus all his energy on listening instead of coming to any sort of conclusions that might not even turn out to be true.
He waits for Eijun to say something else, to offer anything more, but nothing comes. And god, Kazuya is frustrated. Not with Eijun, of course not, never with him, not in these types of situations anyway.
Instead of saying something though, Eijun keeps crying. He’s hiccuping into the crook of Kazuya’s neck and he can feel the hot, wet tears sliding down his own skin. It breaks his heart even more.
A single tear finds his way from behind his closed eyelids as he sighs deeply, making its way down his cheek now but he wipes it away just as quickly as it had appeared.
This is about Eijun now, after all. Kazuya knows if he even so much as thinks about allowing himself to cry, Eijun will notice.
Because Eijun always notices.
Kazuya is aware that him noticing things more often than not, especially when it comes to Kazuya, had something to do with his injury, and he can’t help but feel just a tiny bit guilty for leaving him out of the loop.
But right now, there's no time for that. For any tears or resentment he might have to spare right now.
Because if Eijun notices, Kazuya knows his pitcher will go into some sort of override and completely disregard his own feelings until he’s certain Kazuya feels better again.
It’d be endearing if it wasn't so goddamn self-destructive.
Kazuya hates it.
“Eijun, do you really not want to tell me what’s wrong?” Kazuya tries again when he’s sure nothing more will come from the boy in his arms, and he’s nudging Eijun a little with his chin.
He’s surprised by the waver in his own voice. The unsteadiness.
Hiding his feelings always came natural to Kazuya after all, ever since he was a child. It's a sad thing for someone of that age to learn, but no one was around to care about him anyway so it didn't matter. Internalization became his new way to cope and he spent years successfully going through his life with it.
But it never came as easy to do so when he was around Eijun.
Somehow from the very first day, Eijun made him feel brave. Within the first five minutes of knowing the boy, Kazuya had called him partner and explained the magic of a battery to the loud-mouthed, bratty middle schooler and all his walls came crumbling down in an avalanche.
It took Kazuya way too long to notice that effect though, and when he finally did, it had already been far too late. He’d long since fallen for Eijun, and now there was no stopping it.
Not that he wants to.
So no, he can't hide his feelings from Eijun, not even in a situation that requires it, like right now for instance.
In answer to his question, Eijun shakes his head rather forcefully and Kazuya feels himself deflate further. If Eijun doesn't want to talk about it, there is nothing Kazuya can do except offer comfort, and somehow he feels like this isn't going to be enough right now.
Like simply being there isn't enough.
It makes him want to pull his hair out in frustration, swing his bat for hours on end and run until his legs can't hold him up any longer.
Kazuya just wants Eijun to feel better again. To make whatever hurt him this bad disappear. To wipe the tears off his cheeks and place a kiss on Eijun’s forehead, explaining to him that no matter what, he’s always going to have Kazuya.
But Kazuya can’t do that. He can’t do it because Eijun won't even look at him, won’t talk to him and just buries himself in a self-made cocoon of Kazuya.
He feels himself sigh then, a deep exhale of air held in for too long and resumes stroking Eijun’s back in hopes any type of touch helps the boy remember Kazuya is here to stay, no matter what.
They stay like that for what feels like an eternity. Kazuya has never been the most patient person on earth. Everyone around him knows that. He feels restless too easily and always needs to give himself something to do, something to work his mind over.
Lying in his bed, a crick in his neck by now, he's forced to face his thoughts in ways he hasn't been to in a long time.
Eijun’s crying has subsided by now, and only the occasional sniffle can be heard. Or felt, in Kazuya’s case. Still, Eijun hasn't looked at him yet, still hasn't talked to him at all. It drives Kazuya absolutely crazy.
But he won't push him. He can’t.
Kazuya’s mind wanders though. He thinks about breakfast, how Eijun had been withdrawn, clearly having a bad day already. It had been quiet in the dining hall, without Eijun significantly livening things up. And then during lunch, he hadn't even seen Eijun.
Even though they always see each other. Kazuya had asked Haruichi, but the younger Kominato brother didn't know where Eijun was either, but promised Kazuya he’d let him know if something was up.
Haruichi hadn't texted, but he didn't have to. Kazuya noticed immediately at the beginning of their afternoon practice that something wasn't right at all. And when the short but demanding text message came instead of Eijun himself, it was more than enough confirmation.
So Eijun had been having a bad day, this much was glaringly obvious. But something had made it worse, of that Kazuya is more than sure. It nagged at his mind, made him think, run his mind through possible scenarios. He really hopes Eijun will tell him. Of course, Kazuya would prefer sooner rather than later.
The minutes pass, both too slow and way too fast and Kazuya spirals. That is, until Eijun, finally, slowly and tentatively lifts his head from where it had been nestled in the crook of Kazuya’s neck.
Kazuya holds his breath and his heart aches at the sheer devastation in Eijun’s eyes, but he doesn't say anything. Instead he offers a small smile, a little hesitant and hovers his hand near Eijun’s face.
He lifts a brow in a ‘May I?’ gesture and it is due to Eijun’s willingness to actually get to know Kazuya in all that he is that he understands what he’s asked and nods, timidly and barely there, but it's enough.
Kazuya’s hand finds Eijun’s cheek, almost on its own and he brushes his thumb over it, wiping away the tear tracks. He’s hoping and wishing every worry could be wiped away just as easily.
Eijun leans into the touch, closes his eyes and exhales shakily. Somehow that gesture alone lifts an enormous weight off of Kazuya and his body gives an involuntary shudder.
Kazuya’s other hand follows suit, mirroring the exact same thing on Eijun’s other cheek and Kazuya can’t stop the warmth spreading in his chest as a cheesy thought pops up in his head.
It’s like he's holding his whole world in his hands. Eijun and baseball, so deeply intertwined there's neither without the other.
The innocent afterthought sends a spike of panic through his body, but Kazuya manages to suppress it successfully. He will cross that bridge when Eijun isn't feeling like his whole world fell apart, for whatever reason.
When Eijun’s cheeks are dry, Kazuya lifts his head from the wall, placing his lips against Eijun’s forehead for a lingering touch, and he feels the shudder reverberating through his own body.
Eijun opens his eyes again, his gaze finding Kazuya and the intensity of it makes him squirm a little. Eijun is clearly looking for something, but Kazuya doesn't know what. He does hope Eijun finds whatever he is looking for.
In the meantime, Kazuya tries to convey as much of his love and care into his gaze as he can.
Suddenly, Eijun pulls out his arms from underneath Kazuya’s back and shakes them a little. They probably fell asleep. Neither Kazuya nor Eijun are all that light, and the combined weight of them had been lying on them for a while now. They're bound to tingle.
The movement of Eijun sitting up in Kazuya’s lap startles him out of his thought.
His hands had fallen away from Eijun’s face, and he immediately wishes he had them back where they belong.
Holding Eijun.
He raises a questioning brow, something along the lines of ‘Why did you sit up?’, hoping Eijun will understand and be willing to talk to him this time. It’s an impossible wish, Eijun’s no mind reader after all, but Kazuya still tries.
Eijun though, he shakes his head once, dismissive of Kazuya’s attempts to communicate altogether. Instead, he sprawls his hand across Kazuya’s chest, just like he’d done earlier at the table, a little possessive and a lot territorial.
It makes feelings stir inside of Kazuya that he doesn't dare address. Not now, not in this moment.
He tries to follow Eijun, tries to sit up as well, but Eijun shakes his head again and applies just enough pressure to his chest to keep Kazuya down, his back on the bed, Eijun’s heels still digging in.
There is uncertainty flickering across Eijun's face now, something Kazuya rarely sees in him. It makes Kazuya question once again just what the hell happened?
Thinking will only get him so far though as he notices Eijun starting to lean down a little again, his gaze flickering between Kazuya’s lips and his eyes. Left eye, right eye, down to his mouth. Back to his eyes and then his lips again.
His gaze lingers there just a little longer and Kazuya can feel his heart racing in anticipation.
They’ve kissed countless of times, but each and every time still feels like the first time, it's exhilarating.
Thankfully, he doesn't have to wait long. Eijun’s lips find his in an almost hesitant touch and Kazuya’s eyes flutter closed. The kiss is tentative, a little cautious.
Kazuya doesn't understand why. He wants to take initiative, pull Eijun closer by the back of his neck. Wants to give him the reassurance that this is everything Kazuya wants, but he fears it’s going to scare Eijun off, make him retreat for good. So he lets Eijun take the lead, hold the reigns in his hands and enjoys the gentle sensation of their lips meeting.
He does move his lips first though, brushing them against Eijun’s with a little more pressure than he’s receiving. It seems to be the right thing to do, because Eijun reciprocates instantly, applying his own gentle pressure to it.
Kazuya takes his hand to Eijun’s head then, burying his fingers in a handful of hair, pulling lightly at the strands, barely enough to be felt, but Eijun groans softly against his lips anyway.
Eijun grabs his own fistful of Kazuya’s hoodie then, carding through Kazuya’s hair with his other hand, and the sudden touch makes Kazuya shudder. He hadn't realized Eijun’s hand had made its way up to his head.
In a swift movement, Kazuya uses his free hand to prop himself up, just enough so they’re sitting in his bed, Eijun properly in his lap now, their heads dangerously close to the top bunk. Neither of them notice though.
Eijun whines lightly in protest since he’d tried to keep Kazuya on the bed before, but Kazuya cuts him off with another press of his lips and a lick of his tongue on his bottom lip, which Eijun gladly surrenders to. Kazuya’s free arm snakes around Eijun’s back, pulling him closer to his chest, his other hand still tangled in chestnut-colored strands of soft and silky hair, and he pulls again, a little more firmly this time. Eijun’s groan is like music to Kazuya’s ears
With a sudden pang of guilt and a cold wave of shock rushing through his body, Kazuya realizes just what situation they just came out of. Eijun had barely managed to put himself together mere minutes ago. Rather abruptly, Kazuya draws back.
Eijun chases after him, a little dazed and his eyes still closed. The firm hand at the back of Kazuya’s head doesn't let him stray too far from him at all.
“Eijun,” Kazuya breathes and his voice sounds positively wrecked. It amazes Kazuya every time just what an effect Eijun can have on him, especially in such a short amount of time. It’s not necessarily a complaint, but Kazuya certainly prefers that it’s Eijun who holds this power over him, not someone who’d use that power with any sort of malicious intent.
Eijun opens his eyes then, not all the way, but halfway, just enough for Kazuya to see the gold he loves so much, halfway swallowed by the darkness of Eijun’s pupils.
Still, Eijun’s eyes are red and puffy and there are still tear tracks on his face, so Kazuya doesn't want to take advantage of the vulnerability any more than he already has.
He releases the strands of hair from his fingers, keeping his hand settled there though and loosens the grip on Eijun’s middle as well, settling his hand at the small of Eijun’s back.
His thumb graces bare skin under the hem of Eijun’s shirt and Kazuya can feel the goosebumps rising on Eijun’s skin at his touch.
“Eijun,” he repeats, his voice a little more even this time, and Eijun looks down to his own hand fisted in Kazuya’s hoodie. The other one finds its way from the back of Kazuya’s head to his neck. He shivers when Eijun’s thumb starts idly stroking his jaw.
“I’m sorry,” Eijun says, his voice nothing more than a whisper and Kazuya’s heart clenches anew. “I just wanted to think about something else,” he adds and Kazuya’s breath hitches.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he says quickly and places his thumb along Eijun’s temple, tracing the tiny hairs at the end of Eijun’s eyebrows. I need to apologize, he thinks but doesn't say because Eijun would disagree with him in a heartbeat, yet it wouldn't quell the rising guilt in Kazuya’s stomach.
It would probably cause more of an argument than be of any help.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Kazuya asks then and wishes Eijun would finally look at him, look him in the eye and tell him what happened to make him feel this miserable.
Kazuya can't take it anymore.
Eijun takes his time answering, the hesitation clear on his face, but it dances in a tango with his contemplation to let Kazuya in on it. He opens his mouth, presumably to say something, but closes it with a click just as fast.
Kazuya can see the muscles in Eijun’s jaw working. He’s clearly clenching his teeth. Kazuya takes his hand from Eijun’s back and the pitcher whines at the loss of contact on his skin, but Kazuya doesn't hesitate to place his hands on Eijun’s face now.
“Look at me,” Kazuya says, his tone questioning. His hands are holding Eijun’s face without any force. Because the one thing Kazuya isn't going to do, is force Eijun into anything, no matter how small. If Eijun’s gonna look at him, he’s doing it on his own free will.
Eijun is still hesitating, Kazuya can see it. He’s gnawing at his bottom lip and Kazuya brushes his thumb over the tender flesh to release it from the grip. Eijun looks at him then, and Kazuya doesn't know how to interpret what he's seeing right now.
There is clearly want in the pitchers eyes, but it's tinged with sadness, and uncertainty. The thing he’d seen earlier is still there, and now Kazuya is fairly certain it is fear. It makes his heart clench uncomfortably in his chest.
“Did I…” he starts, breaking the eye-contact he’d fought tooth and nail to get. But he can't stand the fear in Eijun’s eyes, not knowing if he had done something to cause it. In his sane mind he’d know that this has nothing to do with him.
EIjun had sought his comfort above anyone else’s and he’s showing him his most vulnerable side time and time again so it seems ridiculous to believe Eijun might be afraid of something he did.
His sane mind would have provided him with the possibility that while Kazuya’s actions aren’t the cause for the fear, he might still be part of the reason Eijun feels afraid, to a different capacity.
But he’s not sane right now. He’s scared and he’s worried and the anxiety is thrumming through his veins. His first instinct is to look for the error in himself, it’s what he’s grown up with. So he’s questioning.
“Did I do something wrong?” the question sits in the room for barely a second before Eijun’s thumb finds its way beneath Kazuya’s chin, tilting it up to make him look at him.
There’s a fire in Eijun’s eyes when he shakes his head violently. “You have done absolutely nothing wrong, Miyuki Kazuya. Don’t you ever think that. If you did, I would tell you.”
It’s the most Eijun has spoken today, that Kazuya knows of, and the fact that it's a reassurance for Kazuya makes warmth bloom in his chest.
The reassurance helps tremendously, but it still raises the question, what is it that Eijun is so afraid of then? He nods and smiles a little, pulling the corner of his mouth up into a little smirk. It’s lopsided and it lacks his usual mirth, but this is no matter for amusement anyway.
Eijun tries to mirror the smile, but it doesn't even reach his eyes, the corners remain untouched and Kazuya’s chest constricts. He really, really wants to know what’s going on.
Eijun’s hand drops to his chest again and he’s drawing aimless lines with his index finger now, not meeting Kazuya’s eyes again.
“What is it then?” he asks, tracing small circles on the sides of Eijun’s face, hoping his touch gives the boy more comfort to feel okay enough to talk about it.
He knows continuously asking Eijun to explain isn't exactly giving him the room to choose, but the worry in his chest makes it hard to breathe and Kazuya isn't sure how long this can continue for.
“It’s stupid…” Eijun mumbles and leans his head in Kazuya’s right hand, closing his eyes with a sigh. The movement of his hand doesn't ceases and Kazuya shudders slightly when the other hand appears on his hips, his thumb playing with the elastic band of his shorts.
It’s not stupid if it bothers you, he wants to say, but Eijun doesn't want to hear it, Kazuya knows it, so instead he says “Humor me anyway,” and nudges Eijun’s cheek with his thumb. It does seem to help, because Eijun finally starts talking.
He’s looking everywhere but Kazuya’s eyes when he speaks, his voice so uncharacteristically quiet and pained.
“I just overheard some people talking,” Kazuya’s breath hitches, “at first it was harmless, it was mostly about the team but they were probably fans of you,” Kazuya scoffs at that but doesn't say anything, instead lets Eijun continue.
“They kept talking about how much potential you have and everything…” Eijun stops himself for a moment, biting on his bottom lip again. Not so hard that it bleeds, but it does look like it hurts a little. Kazuya lets him this time, because he knows Eijun needs this right now.
Instead he takes Eijun’s hand from his hips and intertwines their fingers together, laying it in their laps.
“I didn't think much of it, because a lot of people talk like that about you. It’s no surprise and I love listening to it. So I stayed for a moment, wanting to see what else they say.” Eijun is sniffling then and an alarm-bell goes off in Kazuya’s head.
He’s fairly certain he knows where this is going. Ever since they started dating, there have been certain opinions coursing around. Some could not care less about their relationship, others give them their full support. Kazuya doesn’t care all that much, but silently appreciates them anyway.
And then there are those who would rather swallow bleach than accept that two boys could ever fall in love and be considered normal for it.
Kazuya had tried to ignore those spreading negativity about them, but from time to time he finds himself glaring them into the ground. He always feels a little better when they scoff or flounder around, their feathers ruffled and turn away to leave.
It’s unlike him to even bother with those people, usually he doesn't care at all. It’s their opinion, it doesn't affect Kazuya in any sort of way. But somehow the protectiveness he has over Eijun trumps it all, makes him do things he normally wouldn’t.
Most of the time he’s managed to keep Eijun out of earshot of those people. It’s not that he thinks Eijun can't handle it, but he wants to keep the negativity regarding their relationship as far away from him as possible either way.
Because Eijun is sensitive and empathetic. He does have his bad days. Days where he doubts himself, where he thinks he’s not enough, never will be.
Days where insecurity and irrationality take over and Eijun is the farthest from his usual cheery self he can possibly be.
Days where he feels too much all at once, when everything gets overwhelming and nothing feels the way it should at all.
Kazuya loves him through it anyway, but he still tries to protect him from the bad. It seems like he failed miserably to do that today.
“But then they started to talk about me… and you… our relationship.” Kazuya knew it. The fury rises in his chest and he clenches his jaw. His breath comes out short, just once, before he tries to compose himself, to let Eijun take the reins and clue him in.
“You know I usually don't mind the things people say about me." It was true, Eijun somehow never seemed to actually be bothered when the people around him told him he couldn't do something, that he didn't deserve the spot on the first string, or even be on the mound in the first place, let alone be the Ace of the team. He proved them wrong time and time again anyway.
"But they—…” Eijun stops for a moment, trying to compose himself again.
"They said it was my fault you’ll never be able to go pro, and that you should at least have taken someone worth losing your career over." the pitcher lets out a quavering breath.
Kazuya wants to tell him immediately that this is not true, but he halts when Eijun fixes him with a look filled with such an intensity, it makes it hard to tear his eyes away, or even open his mouth to say anything.
"Kazuya…” Eijun looks at him, the hurt so visible in his gaze. Kazuya feels like he can barely breathe. There are tears building anew in those beautiful golden eyes and Eijun's bottom lip is trembling.
“I don't want to be the reason you won't have a successful future. I don't want to be the one holding you back from your dream.”
Kazuya’s heart shatters.
It all makes sense now. Baseball is their life. For both of them. Nothing matters as much to them respectively, as baseball does. They both know it. About each other and for themselves.
So Kazuya hates to say that it makes perfect sense for Eijun to have such a severe reaction to someone saying such nonsense.
As the tears fall yet again from Eijun's eyes, Kazuya wipes them away with his thumb, squeezing the other hand he's been holding to gather Eijun's attention for himself.
It seems so out of character, for him to talk about his feelings. To be so open, so vulnerable in return. But sometimes, there's no other way around it. Sometimes he has open up his heart, and hope the other person doesn't take the opportunity to fuck him over. So he takes a leap of faith and pours his heart out.
"Eijun you gotta listen to me, okay? I'll tell you this as many times as you need, but whoever said this is more than wrong, okay? You're not holding me back from anything. I will go pro, that is just a fact. You know it, I know it, everyone around us knows it.
"And if there's even one thing in this world that's going to prevent me from it, it most definitely won’t be the boy I love, okay?" Kazuya fixes Eijun with his stare and barely registers the words he just said.
Of course he loves Eijun, that's no secret. At least to him. It wasn't like a grand revelation or anything, but rather a little moment of 'Oh, so that's what it feels like' and then he'd moved on.
Admittedly, he hasn't said anything yet, but not because he's unsure or insecure his feelings might not be returned, but because he tries to show it to Eijun in many different ways. And because he feels words aren’t always necessary.
He shows it in late night practices when he’s exhausted but Eijun asks him to catch for him just a little longer. In bringing him water when he’s looking around for his own water bottle and finds it empty.
In the affectionate touches only Eijun manages to weasel out of him in any given situation. The manga reading sessions he indulges in because it's a thing Eijun enjoys, and Kazuya enjoys spending time with Eijun above anything else.
He showers him with reminders to take more care, or better care of himself, to not skip meals and get sufficient rest between trainings. Sometimes he hauls him from the track and takes him by his hands to lead him somewhere else. Sitting him down on the soft grass to help him stretch.
Eijun’s closet shows it, because Kazuya feels like half of the hoodies inside are his by now, because Eijun never takes his own, even when it’s cold, so Kazuya shares his, or takes two with him.
It’s even evident on Sawamura’s hands, because the boy doesn't care enough for them, especially not in the winter, but Kazuya does, because they’re his pitcher’s hands and he needs to have him be at his best. So he trims his nails, files them down, applies lotion and nail polish and kisses each finger tip with a brush of his lips, just to show his love.
He shows it with hidden, and sometimes not so hidden compliments, praising the pitcher just enough so he doesn't get a big head about it. And somehow most importantly, in admitting he’s wrong when he is, because he may be stubborn, but no pride or argument is worth losing Eijun over.
"You..." Eijun's voice croaks and he clears his throat to start the sentence again, but Kazuya beats him to it. Bears his soul to the pitcher. He can't take it back now, but he also really doesn't want to.
"I love you," he says and he can feel his heart hammering against his ribcage. Kazuya's just glad Eijun's hand is nowhere near his heart.
This isn't how Kazuya wanted this to go. He thought to himself, when he tells Eijun he loves him, he wants it to be something positive, something in a moment worth remembering.
He may not be the biggest romantic, but certain things are worth treasuring. At least that's what his mother told him. The first time one says 'I love you' should be a special occasion.
So Kazuya had waited for the right moment, patiently and gladly because in the end, if all goes well, he's got his whole life to figure out when to confess.
What he didn't want, ever, was a confession tainted by bad feelings, of any kind. And now here they are, Eijun crying in his lap, their hands intertwined, holding on for dear life.
“I didn't want to tell you this way, but I need you to know. I need you to believe me when I say that I am not going anywhere, not if you don’t want me to. Whatever people say, it doesn't matter.
“They’re not in our heads, they don't know how we work. They're not privy to our feelings and the way we handle things.” Kazuya says, trying to be as honest as he can. His heart wants to jump out of his chest by now, and Eijun looks at him wide-eyed and yet again close to tears.
Without a shred of hesitation, Eijun lets go of his hand, and before Kazuya can comprehend what's happening, Eijun throws his arms around him, tackling him against the wall. Kazuya hits his head, not exactly lightly either, but for now it doesn't matter because he has an armful of Eijun once again, but this time he thinks it's actually going to be okay.
“And I love you, Kazuya. So much,” Eijun mumbles against Kazuya’s neck and the touch tickles a little. A shiver rushes over Kazuya’s skin, accompanied by a warmth Kazuya feels floating up to his ears. He enjoys these feelings thoroughly, and a smile makes its way to his lips.
The moment doesn't last all that long. Eijun lifts himself up again, sitting on Kazuya’s lap with a grin so bright, Kazuya feels blinded by it. It's a vast improvement to anything that happened over the course of the whole day so Kazuya can even forgive him for tackling him, even if his head hurts a little now.
“I’m sorry did I hurt you?” Eijun asks when Kazuya grimaces a little as a throb pounds through his head. He shakes his head, it's not even that bad, and Eijun seems a little skeptical but he believes him.
Eijun slowly shifts his hands, to cup Kazuya’s cheeks once again, tracing little circles along his jawline and Kazuya shivers a little, but leans into the touch furthermore.
Kazuya himself settles his own hands back on Eijun’s hips, hoping to keep him grounded in more ways than one. Just like he manages so many times, even if he doesn’t even realize.
In an instant the mood is brighter again, the tears have been shed, the sunshine’s smile has been restored, and Kazuya hopes he never finds out whoever it was that Eijun overheard.
A small part of him wants to know, wants to go over to them and tell them what kind of shitty people they are, but he knows people are incorrigible and Eijun would probably tell him not to bother, even if they make him sincerely doubt himself and their relationship.
That’s just how good and, in that regard, selfless of a person Eijun really is. While on the mound he is the most selfish person, greedy and self-centered. Unwilling to yield the mound to anyone. But as soon as he steps off of it, he thinks of everyone else first. Oftentimes at an expense of himself.
And Kazuya loves that about him, but sometimes he wishes he were more selfish. So Kazuya is it for him. He makes sure Eijun takes care of himself first, before anyone else. Kuramochi had once told him how soft Eijun made him, and Kazuya didn't even bother to disagree.
“Thank you,” Eijun mumbles, all of a sudden into the comfortable silence that had settled over them. Kazuya blinks slowly and his smile becomes wider now. “There is nothing to thank me for,” he says, because there isn’t. Kazuya would do it all over again if the need arose.
“You were there for me when I needed you. I didn't even offer an explanation and yet you still held me through it. You didn't push me to talk, and you didn't get annoyed with me when I didn't tell you at first. You did plenty, Miyuki Kazuya, and for that I am grateful.”
Kazuya blinks rapidly then, for fear of tears building in his eyes as the overwhelming emotions rise up from his chest, making him a little light-headed. He should be used to Eijun’s antics by now, the pure and unadulterated honestly spurting from his mouth.
But even after over a year of knowing him, there is no getting used to it, he fears. He’s destined to be blindsided by confessions out of the blue, both heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time. For Eijun to thank him for being patient, that means someone in his life wasn’t. And Eijun thinks this isn't something he should take for granted.
But if Kazuya has any say in this, he will continue to provide all the comfort and support Eijun needs. Because he deserves it, and more.
A thought jumps into his mind then.
“Did you eat lunch today?” Kazuya asks, because he has a feeling Eijun didn’t and the sudden urge to stop talking about their vulnerability grips him by the throat. He hopes that for now, Eijun doesn't mind. Eijun’s eyes widen a little at the question, and the hand around Kazuya’s face tightens a little. It’s probably a subconscious reaction.
He shakes his head lightly and Kazuya huffs a little, not exactly displeased because he can’t blame him, but he’s also not necessarily too happy about it. But thankfully, there’s still dinner coming up, so he’ll shovel all the food he can in Eijun’s direction, and he better like it.
Kazuya says as much and Eijun— sweet, lovable dork Eijun laughs, the sound like music to his ears and the accompanying smile finally lights up his eyes with the golden glimmer Kazuya loves so much. He feels himself smile right back. It doesn’t compare to anything, but there is not a single time Eijun smiles, where Kazuya doesn’t feel the urge to split his lips into a grin as well.
People would most definitely call him ‘whipped’ (Kuramochi did so) but how can he not be, when his object of affection is Sawamura Eijun.
His pitcher, his partner, his love.
“Wanna go grab something to eat?” Kazuya asks then, his heart heavy with love, his stomach full of butterflies he’s unable to contain. He used to think that description was ridiculous — butterflies in the stomach. But knowing Eijun, that description feels like it’s not enough, but he’ll take it anyway.
“Can we stay here, for just a moment longer?” Eijun asks, his voice small, but drenched in love and affection. He’s still holding Kazuya’s face, his thumbs idly playing around his jaw.
“We can stay for as long as you like, Eijun,” Kazuya says and he leans just a tad bit forward, but Eijun gets the message and meets him halfway, their lips meeting in a soft, chaste brush against one another before they separate again. Kazuya doesn’t go very far as he leans his forehead against Eijun’s with a sigh.
They bask in each other’s presence then, Eijun still heavy on Kazuya’s lap, and Kazuya’s hands have yet to leave
“You know what I’m thinking about right now?” Kazuya shakes his head lightly as he raises a brow in question, and waits for Eijun to enlighten him to his thoughts. Because while he may as well be considered that behind Home Plate, he’s not exactly a mind reader. Although not for a lack of trying on his part.
“When I hold your face, it’s like I’m holding my entire world, just between my palms. Isn’t that silly?” And Kazuya positively melts, his heart bursting with affection. He wonders if this is what a heart attack feels like, but he doesn't voice it. He’d sound absolutely silly after all.
“You’re a dork,” Kazuya opts for, but the rapid beat of his heart betrays him as Eijun’s hand falls right on top of it in Kazuya’s haste to claim his pitcher’s lips again.