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Beomgyu pushes the bullpen door with such harshness, that it hits the back of the wall and he flinches at the sound it makes. He would like to think he isn’t at fault because he was always right regarding their arguments. Beomgyu was a calm and composed person - he was known for being logical, cold, and tactical.
The hot-headed stubbornness is a pitcher's thing. He’s not allowed to be emotional on the field, not when the entire team depends on him, on his calls. Being a catcher is certainly something he enjoys, probably way more than he should. It always gave him a power trip, and no one could blame him - it felt so good he could taste it.
People like Soobin like to call him arrogant. Beomgyu is aware of that fact but it doesn’t bother him. If they think he’s arrogant it’s because he’s good at it - he’s a good catcher, a good batter, an all-rounder. No one can deny it, so they opt for the easy option: badmouth him. He stopped caring long ago but if there’s one thing that he can’t tolerate it’s hypocrites.
Beomgyu presses himself against the door and looks up. It’s late at night and the perfect time to find an empty bullpen. Perhaps his mind had been too clouded by his anger that he hadn’t realised it shouldn’t have been a possibility given that it’s always locked after practice and the managers, along with the captain, are the only ones with a key.
“Are you looking for something?” Beomgyu stirs at the familiar voice.
He grumbles under his breath. “Extra practice. Conditioning isn’t enough.”
“It’s never enough but it’s necessary. Why are all first-years so condescending?”
Beomgyu hisses under his breath. He doesn’t want to be disrespectful to his senior but the other always hits a nerve. “Minho, listen,” Beomgyu breathes out.
The main catcher squints his eyes at him and interrupts: “No. You listen to me,” he points at himself. “You’re a first-year. Act like it - do you wanna get injured before the season starts? You’re not even in the first string yet.”
Beomgyu has a big ego and it doesn’t take much for it to bruise. He looks down, unable to look Minho in the face. There’s something akin to shame growing in his chest but he would never admit it out loud. He looks down and shuts up, hoping for it to pass.
Before making the both of them leave the bullpen, Minho offers him: “If you feel restless and need the extra practice, tell me. I’ll try to help 一 just, don’t do this again. Don’t sneak out. You’re not in high school anymore.”
Beomgyu waits, gaping at him. Minho’s face grows a smirk, “You know… since the fourth years graduated, there’s an empty spot for reserve catcher.”
A pause. “Soobin told me about you. Your team went to Nationals, right? Twice?” Minho says, playing with his fingers. Beomgyu nods. “Bet you were the hotshot of your team. It’s like you’re begging for someone to knock you down and put you in your place.”
Another pause. “Work smarter and you’ll be in the first string by the end of the month.”
After that, he walks to the door, holds it open for them, and closes it behind him, putting the keys back in his pocket. So that’s Meiji’s main catcher.
It’s not until he’s back in his dorm room that he realises Minho wasn’t supposed to have the keys to the bullpen.
The next day, Beomgyu almost doesn’t make it in time to practice. He gets to the fenced gate, panting, propping his hands on his thighs, feeding his lungs with fresh air.
“Already tired?” A voice says, breath warm on his ears. “Sorry,” Beomgyu lets out. “Went to sleep late.”
“Oh, I know. Minho told me. You’re breaking doors now, Beomgyu? What are we gonna do with that temper of yours?” He says while shaking his head, with a glint of amusement.
Beomgyu ignores him and says: “Captain.”
“Yes?”
“It’s 7 am.” He whines. “Please, Yeonjun.”
Yeonjun explodes into a fit of giggles, hurriedly putting a hand on top of his mouth to cover the noise, looking at both sides, checking if it caught anyone’s attention. “Too early for you, star?”
“It is too early to hear your nagging,” Beomgyu tells him, curling his hands into a fist and putting them on top of his eyes, pressing hard. “I’m tired.” He sighs.
Yeonjun looks at him with soft eyes, something unusual for him. “Minho was a bit harsh, wasn’t he? You may make it to the first string soon, but you’re not taking his main catcher position. Not while he’s in the team.”
Minho was harsh but Yeonjun is always harsher - Beomgyu wonders if it’s a captain thing. He grits his teeth. “We’ll see.”
Yeonjun crosses his arms on top of his chest. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re good. It's probably the best Meiji’s seen in the last few years but Minho’s better. Experience and all that”, he explains.
“Is that what you tell Soobin when he pities himself for not being the Ace? Must be hard on him.” Beomgyu says with amusement in his voice.
“Brilliant! And I thought I had enough with a stubborn pitcher. Now I got a whole annoying battery.” Yeonjun chuckles but gets serious in a second. “Get a grip. You’re not the star player anymore. If you wanted the kind of treatment you got in high school you should’ve gone pro.”
Beomgyu refuses to reply like he always does when he’s wrong and would rather break a leg before apologising for what comes out of his mouth. “Say it一 Say it to his face if you dare.” And he leaves him there, too early to be this sweaty, a headache already creeping on the corner of his eyebrows and a dry mouth.
The next time he sees Soobin it’s at evening practice. Beomgyu runs under the burning sun of April until his whole body is drenched in sweat while Soobin hides in the bullpen, staying out of the immediate path of the sun rays, finding shelter in the shade where the cold spring air cooled his skin. His whole body aches, his thighs burn after his weight training and he wishes for nothing but an empty washroom at the end of the day.
Soobin is a year above him so there were scattered chances for them to cross paths during the day. They had already met the day before which led to an argument, as it always did.
Back in middle school, they were friends. Beomgyu always thought of them as friends. They met each other on practice games and hurried to greet one another when the Little League came. Beomgyu’s teammates always poked fun at him for fraternising with the enemy, but they were friends in Beomgyu’s eyes. It all came crushing into him when a month before their middle school graduation, just in time to decide what high school they were going to continue their baseball career in, Beomgyu offered Soobin a position in his team.
No one could blame him - they were friends. If there’s something his fourteen-year-old self wanted more than anything, it was to form a battery with his friend. It all came crashing into him when Soobin refused him and joined another team. Beomgyu could have ignored him and picked the same school but, for once in his life, he let Soobin go.
The spring tournament goes by with another loss burnt under their skin. Beomgyu didn’t get to play. He got in the first string but he didn’t get to play - he stared from the dugout at Minho’s stance game after game, stiff and unmoving, thighs clenched, mitt in front of his torso.
His eyes focused on one thing only: Jung Jaehyun, Meiji’s Ace.
Beomgyu’s eyes focused on one thing only: Minho jogged into the dugout slower than usual, looking at all sides before changing his gear.
Soobin’s eyes focused on one thing only: the pretty catcher who wasn’t supposed to be in his dugout.
Soobin gets on Beomgyu’s nerves just as much as Beomgyu annoys Soobin. It’s the cycle of life, it’s always been like that. They may have been friends when they were kids but their high school rivalry weighed too much. Arguments were their only form of communication, and for some people, they could look harmless, but nothing hurts more than knowledge, and they knew each other like the palm of their hands.
“What’s your problem?” Beomgyu spits. It was early morning, they had started batting practice when Soobin approached him.
“You are my problem. You’ve barely been here for two months and you think you deserve a starting spot? You’re a first-year, know your place.”
And the thing is: Soobin knows as much as Beomgyu that he deserves to be a starter. For once, Beomgyu finds himself confused at Soobin’s words until he realises the captain is his best friend and there is a high probability that Yeonjun talked to Soobin about his encounter with Minho. Beomgyu was known for being one of the best catchers in the country, but if there was something else he was known for, was being an asshole.
Beomgyu holds his bat to his chest and leans his chin on the top. With a sweet smile and coy eyes, he shoots back: “You’re bitter you’re not the ace. I get it. Don’t take it out on me.”
The response is almost immediate. “What did you say?”
“You’re bitter.” He repeats.”You can’t handle the fact that your friend got your spot. Face it.”
“Beomgyu,” Soobin says, shoulders too high to be relaxed, an aura of annoyance around him that makes Beomgyu shudder - if only he didn’t look like a kicked puppy. “It’s not my spot. This is a team. You’re in my team now,” he says, feeling out of breath. “I get it. You wanted my attention. You wanted my attention so badly that you joined my team. If you want to catch for me go ahead and tell me, don’t bother your teammates with another one of your fits.”
Beomgyu huffs. He hates that Soobin is not a scrawny teenager anymore, he’s nineteen and finally learned how to talk back.
Beomgyu does what he always does and what he knows makes Soobin’s skin crawl - he ignores his words, picks up his batt again, and resumes his practice. He sees Soobin leaving from the corner of his eye as he sends the ball to the fence.
It is a surprise to Beomgyu’s roommate that he likes to read. Jeongin sees him rummage through his back, looking for his favourite book, and whine about how obviously the pretty boy catcher liked to read too as if he needed another reason for people to confess to him.
Beomgyu chuckles breathily. “Confessions? Is that what it is?”
Jeongin narrows his eyes. “Of course, it’s not a big deal to you.”
“Aye, aye.” He mocks his roommate. “Wanna know my secret?” Beomgyu asks.
Jeongin snorts but makes his way to Beomgyu’s bed. With a casual tone, he says: “Let me guess, your thighs.”
Beomgyu wheezes, not expecting that response. “What the hell? Are those your thoughts, dear?” He continues laughing, holding his stomach.
“Wait, wait— Don’t tell me. You’re one of those,” Beomgyu grins at him, leaning in until their shoulders touch. Jeongin doesn’t move, already expecting Beomgyu’s playful manners. “Are you gonna say you want me to choke you with my thighs, too?”
Jeongin jumps in surprise and both of them end up falling from the bed, laughing too hard they end up on the floor. Jeongin perks up, “The hell you mean too?”
Beomgyu straightens his back but doesn’t move from the floor. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He moves only to get his backpack in between his legs, he plays with the zip for a second, before opening it and letting Jeongin know his actual secret.
“No way!” He exclaims, giggling as Beomgyu shows him his favourite Shoujo Manga. Jeongin skims through the illustrated pages. “It makes sense,” Jeongin says. “I guess people would think you’re a total romantic if they see you reading these.”
Beomgyu looks smug. “Exactly— Wait, what do you mean you guess?” He exclaims, offended. “I’m a total romantic!”
Jeongin hums. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen you date anyone.” Beomgyu nods. “I’ve never dated anyone,” he confesses.
“With that face?” Jeongin jokes. “It’s the baseball, isn’t it?”
“It’s not like there’s anything in my mind apart from baseball,” he explains. “Even if it were, I’ve never met anyone that caught my attention. I want to fall in love but I’m bored of everyone I meet.”
Jeongin hums again, oddly focused on one of the pages from the manga. “Are you even listening to me?” Beomgyu pushes his shoulder.
Jeongin scrambled to pick the manga from the floor when it fell from his hands, trying to find the page he was currently on. “Why did you do that?” Jeongin whines at him.
They both laugh and end up reading his collection of Shoujo Manga for the rest of the evening.
Beomgyu steps right behind the batter’s box and crouches to his position. Summer is slowly creeping in and with it, the All-Japan series that they won’t participate in. Three months ago he would have insisted it happened because he wasn’t on the roaster. He’s greedy, but he’s smarter now. He finished his months of conditioning so he could join the rest of the team in regular practices. He realised that, if this season they didn’t win the Emperor’s Cup, they would when fall came.
It’s his first practice in the bullpen, and there’s a total of three pairs of eyes focused on him - it’s even worse when said eyes belong to none other than the main catcher, the captain, and Choi Soobin.
He makes sure he has both feet aligned and holds his arms in place. When he looks up, he finds a golden gaze directed at him from the made-up mound, beautiful, bewitching, and overall: a reminder that baseball is utterly ruthless.
Beomgyu grins behind his catcher’s mask, and he immediately can tell Soobin is tensing up, shoulder stiffer than usual and a frown adorning his face. Soobin winds up, legs so flexible they almost reach the side of his head, and welcomes him with a change-up. At that moment, it was like a long heatwave hit his body—, any ache or pain, sadness or guilty feeling, everything was completely flushed out. The ball hits his mitt and Beomgyu’s breath catches in his throat, only able to mutter: “Nice ball.”
Soobin’s eyes never stray from Beomgyu’s. Attractive, electrifying, captivating. Baseball is so much fun.