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🐆🎮
Burying his face on his arms, Youichi ponders over the journal entries from the players that he took upon himself to read. He technically didn’t need to, but he felt like it’s become more of his responsibility after what happened. The Seido High Baseball Team has already lost its starting catcher and fourth batter due to Miyuki’s injury; the least Youichi could do at this time is to help Miyuki focus on recovering by taking on some of his load as captain. He’s been assigned as stand-in captain, so he might as well.
To be honest, while he considers himself as someone sensible, he hasn’t touched upon a lot of the members’ personal thoughts and aspirations quite like this, despite being appointed as vice-captain for some time now. “I aim to join the first string for the summer tournament.” “I’m afraid that I’ve already hit my peak and I won’t be able to see any new improvement.” “I plan on not continuing baseball after highschool.” All sorts of thoughts run through the heads of every member of the team, written on worn down Campus notebooks, and Youichi figures that Miyuki must be as lost as to how to deal with this as he is.
Youichi groans as he scratches his head, reaching out to pick up another notebook to read, when a hand beats him to it. He looks up to the figure in front of him, seeing a familiar mess of brown hair and black framed glasses.
“Miyuki.”
He leans on the closed window beside them, holding a vending machine coffee in his right hand. He settles the coffee on Youichi’s desk, the condensation of it running down the can.
“Aren’t you doing too much?” Miyuki chuckles, leafing through the notebook he picked up. He skims through the latest journal entry, closes the notebook, and puts it on the pile where Youichi places the journals he’s already read. “I don’t even read them often, myself.”
Youichi notes how Miyuki goes out of his way to be annoying more often than before. Recently, Miyuki would hang out around random first string players, backseating them as they trained or simply tell stories and random anecdotes. Sawamura would complain to Youichi about how “he’s so much worse as a person when he doesn’t get to hold a catcher’s mitt.” But, deep down, Youichi doesn’t mind Miyuki being like that, as long as he’s able to keep his spirits high himself while he recovers.
“And this is why people say you’re a shitty captain.” Youichi quipped, grabbing the journal that Miyuki picked up, planning to continue his work after their conversation. “Are you that friendless? Bored? Is it too late to accept one of the confessions you got from Valentine’s day so you can leave me alone?”
“Ha! And have less time to make fun of your single ass? No way.” He grabs his coffee and walks down to his seat behind Youichi. “But seriously, I’ve had more than enough free time to read these myself, and this sort of thing is also under Coach’s job description. You don’t have to do all that as a stand-in.”
“I don’t know.” Youichi shrugs. “I feel like I have to, for your sake.”
A pause. “How nice of you!” Miyuki retorted. Youichi could hear his cheeky grin even from behind him. “I really do wonder how you barely have any friends after all this time, let alone be single!”
“Being friends with your miserable and unlikeable ass has rubbed off on me. And I mean that negatively.”
“Thank you!” They both chuckled, keeping amongst themselves after that short exchange.
-
Youichi ambles towards the Seido Spirit Dorm, mulling over what he could write in as his answer on the career plan survey that’s announced to be handed out next week. A sudden gush of cold wind blows, slightly stinging his nose and cheeks. He covers what little torso his arms and hands could cover, making a mental note to himself to not wear anything else to school the next day beside his blazer, because it’s still November and it can’t be that cold.
He spots a silhouette on the baseball field, the orange of the setting sun making the sight look almost picturesque. He seems to pace around the grounds in the same unintentionally leisurely way as he was. Youichi is suddenly reminded of the team’s evening practice, and starts to briskly walk towards the figure, planning on wrestling and dragging him straight to practice. It didn’t take him long to recognize that the one walking around the field was Miyuki.
“Hey.” Miyuki turns his head to Youichi’s voice, unable to hide his expression in time. “... And why do you look like that?”
“What do you mean ‘like that’?” Miyuki asks, feigning nonchalance and hiding his frown.
“Like you’re a kid that got candy taken away from you.”
“Did I really look like that?” Miyuki sighs. “Well, probably because I have nothing better to do.”
Youichi lifts an eyebrow. “Surely there are a lot of things better than kicking rocks in the field.”
“Probably.” Miyuki shrugs.
”Could’ve sworn you were Sawamura, moping around because he’s starting to fall out of love with his dearest tire.” Youichi grumbles, hoping to uplift the other’s depressing mood.
“That’ll never happen.” Miyuki laughs; as hollow as it could be.
“You could be studying, you know.” Youichi starts, trying to offer Miyuki options on how to better spend his time while he’s recovering. It’s hard, he realizes, especially since so much of their lives have revolved around baseball. It must be especially hard on Miyuki, Youichi thinks, since he hasn’t shown much interest in anything else aside from baseball that could help him take his mind off the matter. Youichi figures that he couldn’t suggest his games or Sawamura’s manga.
“I’m not failing, so no.”
“You could go and mess around with the pitchers in the bullpen, saying whatever messed up shit comes to your mind.”
“They’re currently in the weights room, working through their daily training menu. I’d rather not.”
“Go discuss the stats from Jingu Tournament with Nabe.” At this point, Youichi is just throwing around anything, hoping that at least one of them sticks.
“I’ve already set an appointment with him and the Coach to talk about that a few days later.”
“Well,” Youichi starts, unsure what else to suggest. “You could…”
“Ran out of ideas, have you?”
“You could… try journaling?” Miyuki raises an eyebrow. “Not limited to baseball, mind you. Your time is probably better spent doing something like writing rather than moping around like a kicked puppy.” Youichi scratches his chin, well aware that this idea must be as ridiculous to Miyuki as it is to him.
Miyuki stares at Youichi, brows slightly furrowing. It doesn’t take long for Miyuki to let out a guttural “ha!”, before losing himself in a series of laughter, a direct contrast to his bitter expression minutes before.
“What? While you said you don’t do it often, you do read the Seido players’ journals.”
“Well, yeah.” Miyuki manages as he pretends to wipe a tear from his eyes, his laugh dying down.
“Before reading about what others write, you should probably start writing more yourself.” Youichi taps his hand on Miyuki’s shoulder. “I’ll be going to change my clothes. Show up at practice. Or do whatever I just told you to. Don’t care, as long as you’re not sulking around here. You’re bringing the mood down.”
“You seem to care about me a little too much. Miss my hot mug and exceptional baseball skills?” Miyuki laughs as Youichi starts heading towards the dorms, turning his head to squint his eyes at him. Whether or not Miyuki is present in their practices, Youichi is sure that each session would be as strenuous as the last.
-
Youichi closes the faculty room door behind him as he ponders, yet again, about his career plan survey. His homeroom teacher has brought up his putting down random Tokyo Big 6 universities on his paper, expressing concern about his mediocre grades that don’t match the universities’ standards. He thought against bringing up the possibility of being scouted into these universities, for fear of getting chewed on and ending up leaving the room much, much later. Regardless, he still leaves the room late, the school corridor mostly empty now, and already bathed in the orange tint of the setting sun.
Yet another day of heading back towards the dorms late , Youichi thinks. This time, he decides to take a shortcut - a dirt path that only reveals itself after jumping over a certain hedge bush. It leads through a narrow passage in between buildings where random trash and most of the air conditioner condenser units sit. Just in the nick of time, Youichi manages to stop himself from emerging as he starts to hear what seems like an interesting, high-stakes conversation nearby.
“Thank you for taking the time to meet me here, Miyuki-senpai.” An unfamiliar voice starts.
“It really is no problem at all.” Youichi immediately recognizes Miyuki’s voice, even if it sounds a little more hesitant than usual.
“I really appreciate it, thank you.” The voice says, sounding as if the person is in between bows while talking.
Youichi takes a careful peek to look at the situation before him: Miyuki, and the man in front of him, both looking hesitant. The man - which Kuramochi somewhat recognizes as an underclassman that his girl seatmate used to complain about for some reason - can’t seem to stop fiddling with the pleating on his pants. Miyuki scratches his head, as he seemingly tries to figure out what kind of situation he got himself into.
“I recognize you, actually.” Miyuki says, leaning his side against the wall. “I remember you from our class’ Sakamoto-san. She’d tell the whole class last term how ‘her boyfriend’s not hot enough for her to get dumped on’, and then proceed to show a photo of you on her phone.”
The man visibly winces, moving his hands to start fiddling on the cuffs of his blazer. His ears get a shade of red darker as each moment passes by. “Oh… You’ve heard of that.” He attempts to chuckle the awkward air away.
“Yes.” Miyuki crosses his arms. “Would today’s meeting have anything to do with that?”
“No -” The man starts, meeting Miyuki’s eyes with his for the first time since they started. He immediately averts his gaze, scratching the back of his head. “God, this isn’t going well. I can’t seem to find the words to -”
“I’m sorry,” Miyuki cuts the man off, maintaining a polite tone and keeping his impatience down, “but I have somewhere to be right about now.”
The man takes a deep breath. “Miyuki-senpai, I’ve watched the last two Fall Tournament games, and you’ve played so well in both. That homerun was… absolutely amazing!” After yet another deep breath, the man resolutely meets Miyuki’s eyes again despite the deep red flush evident on his face, keeping his eyes on him for long. “I’ve been watching you and your games for a while now, only being able to admire you from a distance since I’m not a member of the baseball club…”
Youichi silently observes the both of them, his gut feeling of what’s about to happen next threatening to explode his brain into a million pieces. Youichi can only thank the heavens that he’s hidden right now because he’s probably making a strange face right now. He wonders how Miyuki is able to keep his expression unreadable in a situation like this.
“What I mean to say is,” the man continues, “I really like you, Miyuki-senpai!”
🦝👓
“You have to heal quickly, Cap’! I think I can handle you rambling our ears away whenever we practice, but I can’t have you looking like death whenever you crash at the dugout!”
Sawamura’s words can’t seem to stop ringing in Kazuya’s head as he buries his face in his hands, sitting on a school chair somebody carried out to the dugout. The sky is currently overcast, rain threatening to make contact with the school grounds, so Furuya, Sawamura, Ono, and Kariba had gone ahead, leaving Kazuya to wallow in his thoughts.
Kazuya opens the Campus notebook he started to keep on his person ever since Kuramochi suggested journaling to him. It was a ridiculous idea - boys keeping diaries is unheard of. But he does it anyway, per Kuramochi’s suggestion. He doesn’t have anything better to do most of the time.
He writes in the notebook in a rather unorthodox way, penning his thoughts in bullet form as opposed to paragraph form. It’s not like the coach is going to read this, Kazuya thinks.
He opens the notebook, the bullet points he wrote the past few days visible.
November xx, 20xx
- kuramochi told me to write. try journaling he says
- is it just me or his hairline’s kinda riding up recently </3
- drank a coffee during lunch
- the back of kuramochi’s head has spots with no pomade on it lolol
November xx, 20xx
- changed it up for lunch, drank tea
- that makes it the second time this year…
- finally got to talk to nabe about the previous games
Kazuya’s eyes linger on a certain bullet point. That makes it the second time this year , he contemplates. The second time that a man has confessed his love for him.
Kazuya is aware that he’s conventionally attractive, which ultimately leads to him being often greeted with love letters in his shoe locker and random snacks hidden in the space under his desk. What he hadn’t accounted for, however, was when he picked a letter out of the countless ones in his possession that Valentine’s day, and was met with its owner - a boy.
He was an upperclassman, and was a member of the brass band who often played in Seido’s baseball games. According to him, he hadn’t cared much for baseball before, but was struck by how it was as if Kazuya can gather strength from the band playing his walk-up song, pulling through with his exceptional skill when it counts. He had told Kazuya that he started watching even NPB games ever since his epiphany, and would like the chance to talk more about the sport through dates.
In the end, Kazuya had to muster a smile despite his initial shock to politely decline the man’s offer to date. Kazuya hadn’t been able to get the man’s name as he was a nervous wreck, and immediately left - ran - after expressing his thanks.
This encounter had haunted Kazuya for days, probably even weeks. Even up until now, he still remembers how the boy vaguely smelled like expensive perfume; like sea salt. Kazuya still remembers how the upperclassman reminded him somewhat of Chris due to how soft-spoken he was in his confession. Worst of all, Kazuya still vividly remembers how his heart beat wildly in his chest after the realization that he’s being confessed to by a man sinks in; and the sinking feeling in his gut after becoming aware that he hasn’t felt anything remotely like this when confessed to by any girl.
And now he’s currently being eaten alive by the thoughts of his second one . What even are the odds of that happening to him? Kazuya would be lying if he said that his exchange with Sakamoto’s ex boyfriend - he was also unable to catch his name - did not exhilarate him. It was much easier to digest this time around though, probably due to the trash talking that Sakamoto inflicted behind the man’s back. Kazuya hates it more than ever how he’s now helpless to the sudden gush of his once compartmentalized thoughts about his dating preferences - out of all things - due to his injury.
Kazuya manages to move on from his thoughts in what feels like a lifetime. He flips to a new page, grabs a pen from his pocket, and clumsily writes:
November xx, 20xx
- i never feel sleepy in rei-chan’s classes, but for some reason i dozed off for around 5 minutes today i think?
- furuya’s control seem to be getting better by the day
- actually sawamura’s too
- not gonna tell them that yet though
Kazuya reads over what he’s written, satisfied with what unsubstantial things he’s scrawled for the day, when a sturdy hand lands on his right shoulder. He whips his head around to see Kuramochi looking over, the notebook in his hands in the other’s full view. Kazuya swiftly closes the notebook after noticing the fact.
“How unusual, you really didn’t notice me coming?” Kuramochi asks amusedly, shifting his weight to the backrest of Kazuya’s chair.
“Well, I’ve been busy -” Kazuya raises his Campus notebook as proof “- doing what you told me to.”
“Doesn’t look like you’ve been taking it seriously.” Kuramochi squints and shoots a look of disappointment at Kazuya. “Sorry, but I’ve looked over your shoulder while you were writing a bit. Never mind writing in bullet points, but all the stuff you’ve written are so vague! And stupid - my hairline is perfectly fine, asshole!”
“It’s not like the coach is going to read this.” Kazuya laughs, waving his hand dismissively, reiterating what was in his thoughts about the journal a moment ago. “And you shouldn’t be reading, either.”
“Yeah, but you yourself should be able to read what you’ve written at least.” Kuramochi shakes his head. He shifts his focus on the notebook. “The one bullet point that says, ‘that makes it the second time this year,’ what does that even mean ? Second time of what? You’re just going to confuse yourself.”
“None of your business, if I’m being honest.” Kazuya scoffs, not intending to yield.
Ever since receiving the first confession, Kazuya wondered if something like that will ever be appropriate to share with anybody. He’d never heard of anybody around him talking about being confessed to from the same sex, much less a positive opinion about it , and Kazuya is sure that he’s not enough of a martyr to be the first one. While he can trust Kuramochi on a lot of things, Kazuya still maintains not telling him about this particular topic.
Kuramochi stares for a moment, and Kazuya briefly wonders if he’s accidentally taken on a harsher tone than he means to.
“Hm, fair.” Kuramochi shrugs his shoulders, shifting his weight away from Kazuya’s backrest to stand up straight. He looks up to the sky, even darker than when Kazuya came here earlier. “Well, it looks like it’s going to rain. Are you not going inside?”
“What are you even doing out here?” Kazuya stands up, adjusting his hold on the chair to carry it back inside, when Kuramochi swoops in to grab and carry the chair himself. “Huh?”
“Coach wanted to see the pitchers, but I guess they’re not here.” Kuramochi walks on ahead toward the indoor facilities, adjusting his hold on the chair to get a better grip on it. “And haven’t you heard enough from everybody telling you to actually give your body a break ?”
“Dumbass. I can carry a chair on my own.” Kazuya follows behind him, a strong gust of cold wind stinging the tips of his fingers. He sticks his increasingly cold hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, making a mental note to himself that Kuramochi could be oddly considerate at times, and that it would be wise to wear a sweater vest the next time he goes to his classes.
-
The thoughts flying through Kazuya’s head resembles the same moth currently flying around the lightbulb that illuminates the area around the vending machine. It’s as if life is playing a sick joke on him, the way all these little things build up to be a storm wreaking havoc in Kazuya’s gut.
He had met up with Chris during their lunch break to ask if Kazuya could come to his training facility, since Kazuya’s been given the green light to do some light exercising. Kazuya noted how, despite not being able to focus on any baseball-related activities after his retirement from the club, Chris had been looking positive recently, seemingly looking forward to the prospects of his baseball career once he graduates and completes his rehabilitation.
Kazuya listened intently to the short conversation he and Chris shared, glad that he is back to his usual passionate, yet steady self that he first met when he was in junior high. Kazuya remembered how he had practiced bitterly, hours on end, to match the prowess Chris had for baseball. He sought to be somebody that Chris could call a worthy rival, or to be an athlete Chris would find worth in growing together with, cheeky as it sounds.
In the end, he had been forced to bear the responsibility of starting catcher as a freshman, green as can be, due to Chris’ unfortunate injury. Kazuya had been gutted as he couldn’t find the words and courage to say anything to Chris at that time. Because of these circumstances, Kazuya could only watch Chris slowly losing himself, so seeing him in his most animated state in a long while gave Kazuya a sense of relief.
As he was on his way back to the second years’ floor, he stumbled upon a man he’d had his mind on recently - the brass band upperclassman who confessed to him on Valentine’s day. The man waved, his eyes meeting Kazuya’s with an amicable smile.
“Hello!” The man walked closer, not losing the friendly look on his face. “You look happy.”
Happy? “Hi,” Kazuya waved back, flashing him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, but what -”
“Oh!” A lightbulb flashed in the upperclassman’s mind as if realizing something. “No, I’m sorry, I just remembered I haven’t been able to tell you my name, since…” He shook his head. “My name is Yamada.”
“Nice seeing you, Yamada-san.” Kazuya nodded out of respect, feeling that both sides were trying to keep the conversation from being awkward.
Yamada opened his mouth, intending to continue the small talk, when the school bell rang to signify the end of the lunch break. He sheepishly scratched his head.
“I’ll be going now.” Yamada said, waving to Kazuya. “I hope that the last time we met hasn’t made anything awkward for you.”
“No, not at all,” Kazuya reassured.
“Catch you sometime, then.” Yamada turned his back to Kazuya to head towards his classroom. Kazuya lingered in the hallway, unable to help but notice how Yamada has the same habit of fiddling with the pleats on his pants as Sakamoto’s ex boyfriend.
For some reason, the moth that once circled around the light seems to have taken an interest in Kazuya. It flapped around his field of vision, adding yet another small trouble to his already sizable pile. Kazuya didn’t know what to make of his noticing of Yamada’s nervous habits and Yamada reading his expression so easily on the second encounter, or of him finding it much more thrilling to think about the two confessions that he had received from boys rather than the numerous he had received from girls. Something in the back of Kazuya’s mind tells him that there is probably - there should - be more signs similar to these that he simply failed to notice, else how is he going to be able to rationalize these thoughts?
Kazuya sets the matter aside as the moth has decided to land on the lip of his vending machine sports drink. He swats the moth away, contemplating whether he should still drink from the bottle or not. That’s kinda funny, this is perfect material to write about , Kazuya thinks. He briefly considers going back to his room to write in his journal when he hears footsteps dragging across the concrete.
“You again, Miyuki?” Kazuya looks up to see Kuramochi, the light reflecting off the traces of sweat left on his face and his breathing still heavy, most likely from practicing his swing. “I’m getting tired of seeing your ugly ass sulking everywhere. Aren’t you already allowed to do some training?”
Kazuya knows exactly what to answer, but the words don’t seem to leave his lips. Well, I went with Chris-senpai earlier to do some light training, he thinks, but unable to say it out loud. Instead he turns the sports drink with his hands, his fingers unconsciously looking for something to fidget with. “Kuramochi,” Kazuya starts, but unable to follow up after a few awkward moments.
“Hm..?” Kuramochi throws him a puzzled look.
Impulse ended up grabbing a hold of Kazuya before he could stop himself. He’d considered himself as somebody self-reliant, able to keep his own issues to himself, never making it anybody else’s problem while he solves it himself. Kazuya had deeply considered it - him being gay - way before this year’s events even happened. His middle school classmates had already called him names for never entertaining confession letters he’d received. Why, he found it much more fun to hang out with people who are interested in baseball, much more if they play. He found it pointless to pursue people he doesn’t have even the slightest interest in. Now that he’s actually found people who managed to spark his interest, he barely has any room to think otherwise about his sexuality.
“Kuramochi,” Kazuya starts again, fully aware that he is at the point of no return. He has nothing else at his disposal that he can say to deflect the situation. He sets the drink down and grabs Kuramochi’s wrist, intending to drag him to somewhere else more secluded. “Come with me.”
“What?” Kuramochi stumbles, eventually falling into pace with Kazuya’s brisk walk. Kazuya leads them into an area around a narrow space between buildings, somewhat illuminated by the lights flooding out the windows. A handful of people use the passageway as a shortcut to get to and from the dorms faster, namely brave students who aren’t afraid of getting sent to the teachers’ office when caught.
“We’re here.” Kazuya stops, and sees Kuramochi darting around from his wrist to Kazuya’s face, trying to make some sense of the situation he’s in. At this point, Kazuya’s heart is racing, impulsive thoughts running amok inside his head.
“Yep, we’re sure here, alright.” Kuramochi raises an eyebrow.
Kazuya could feel himself grow lightheaded by the minute. He’s about to confront a person like Kuramochi about something ridiculous: if Kuramochi would be willing to help him figure himself out. He’s also aware that it’s ridiculous. Still, this is the boy who’s constantly badgering Kazuya to take his recovery seriously, even going so far as to carry his chair back to the indoor facilities. This is the same boy who took it upon himself to split the load of captain duties, going so far as to read the journals of the members of the team. If Kazuya had to choose somebody to trust that their current relationship wouldn’t crumble after baring a deep secret of his in the open, it would be Kuramochi.
Kazuya clears his throat. “You asked what that bullet point meant on my journal.”
Kuramochi takes a moment to recollect. “Yeah, I did. About how it’s the second time.”
“It’s the second time this year,” Kazuya, while resolute, is unable to meet Kuramochi’s eyes. He stares out into the distant Tokyo cityscape, desperately trying to find something in the high-rise buildings that could calm his nerves. “... It’s the second time this year that I’ve been confessed to by a boy.”
Kazuya looks back at Kuramochi, catching the way he forced his wide eyes to go back to normal, forcing himself to keep a neutral expression, probably not to hurt or offend Kazuya. The silence goes on for what felt like millennia, with Kuramochi purposely reaching at the back of his neck to scratch it.
Kuramochi mustered a small “oh,” before further peppering his next sentence with more stutters. “Um. I-I see.”
“Yeah.” Kazuya says. He’s suddenly painfully aware of how dirty his glasses are at the moment, the light from the windows reflecting off the fingerprints and dust. He takes it off with shaky hands to wipe the lens on his shirt, thankful for having found something to occupy his anxious hands. “Mm.”
“I…” Kuramochi winces, but proceeds to speak anyway. “I actually came across you getting confessed to by a guy the other day. Around these parts, too. Sorry for only telling you this now.”
“Oh.” Kazuya stops fidgeting with his glasses, the wind knocked out of his sails. Oh, he saw that. However, this new piece of information won’t make things any easier for Kazuya moving forward.
“Yeah.” Kuramochi continues, now staring at the same distant Tokyo cityscape with his hands inside his sweatshirt pockets. “Besides, does it really matter if all you do is reject everybody who confesses?”
Kazuya takes a deep breath, his emotions currently a mixed bag. He’s sure that Kuramochi’s reply is something that he didn’t put any particular thought into before saying, and that it doesn’t tell Kazuya anything about Kuramochi’s opinion on people’s sexual orientation.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, Kuramochi.” Kazuya finally puts his glasses back on his face, and turns to face Kuramochi. Kuramochi is staring back at him, listening intently. There are still parts of the lens that hadn’t been wiped properly. “That had been my second time, after all, and the signs that I’ve only been able to notice recently all point to somewhere I don’t think I’d be able to swallow unless I confirm it for myself somehow.”
“Signs? Confirm?” Kuramochi asks, his eyes widening as he comes to slowly understand what Kazuya had been trying to imply.
“I… I’m aware that this is a tall ask.” Kazuya’s heart threatens to break through his ribcage, and he’s acutely aware of how awkward every movement of his must look right now, but he pushes through. “But, you’re the only person I could ask of this.”
Kazuya’s eyes are fully set on Kuramochi’s face right now, trying to make sense of what the other could be feeling right now. It is insane to ask Kuramochi of this, Kazuya realizes, and this fact is cemented by the way Kazuya had never seen him look this confused and unsure.
“Look, if you don’t spell it out loud for me - ” Kuramochi stops, flinching when he realizes that he had raised his voice more than necessary. He clears his throat. “If you don’t spell out for me what you want me to do, I… I have no way of knowing.”
Kazuya tries to think, for the last time, if there are any more ways to soften the blow of what he’s about to say next. “I’d like to ask you for help to confirm if I do like boys back.” Kazuya says slowly.
Kuramochi’s eyes widen, slowly leaning his back on the wall. As Kazuya initially thought, this was an awful idea of him to ask, this should’ve never been out in the first place, what is he going to do the next day when they have morning practice -
Kuramochi lets out an uncharacteristically gentle chuckle. “... Have you actually gone blind? Have you seen me?”
“Huh?” Kazuya looks at Kuramochi, unsure where the conversation is going.
“You must’ve gone insane.” Kuramochi shakes his head, a quiet laugh escaping him. “What made you think that I’ll be of any help to you?”
“Well - ”
“Sure, I can help, but I’m probably the worst person you could’ve approached about this.” Kuramochi sighs, settling down to sit on the concrete. “What made you consider yourself possibly being gay in the first place? Surely it couldn’t have been just those two confessions.”
“Well.” Kazuya breathes out slowly, joining Kuramochi in sitting on the concrete. He largely didn’t hope the conversation would go in his favor. “Well, for starters, I never really understood why you and a bunch of others in our grade had that crush on Rei-chan.”
“I do not - ”
“Yes you do, don’t think I didn’t notice how you used to do this weird show-offish stretching on base whenever Rei-chan came to practice.” Kazuya chuckles, satisfied to have cut off Kuramochi before he went on a long tirade. “I know she’s attractive, but you were obsessed . Thankfully you got over it, you matured enough to realize that she would never have a kid like you under her radar.”
Kuramochi doesn’t miss the chance to slap Kazuya’s arm. “Stop saying shit.”
“Ow!” Kazuya exclaims, rubbing the sting from the hit away. He sighs. “Guess I never really got to experience something similar to that with girls.”
“She’s the first one who figured out my baseball role model from the way I played.” Kuramochi scratches his head, the tips of his ears visibly red. “Anyway, doesn’t this just mean that you haven’t found somebody that fits your type?”
“Kuramochi,” Kazuya hangs his head, dawning on him that the conversation is something that shouldn’t be overheard by the people in the building next to them. “Let’s huddle closer.”
“Oh, right.” Both Kazuya and Kuramochi scooch closer to each other, readjusting to sit more comfortably. Both of them have their backs on the wall, now facing the scenery of the other Seido campus buildings mixed with distant cityscape.
“Again, I’ve done a lot of thinking.” Kazuya returns to the topic at hand, voice a level quieter as they’re now in closer proximity, looking at Kuramochi in his peripheral view. “I realize I may actually have liked an upperclassman in the team. I think that I had actually been feeling attraction to him along with admiration for him as a player.”
Kuramochi opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself before anything other than a weak “ah” came out.
“You were about to say a name, weren’t you?” Kazuya snorts. He could practically hear the gears in Kuramochi’s brain working overtime.
It’s weird, Kazuya thinks, that a moment ago he was almost overcome with anxiety. While he trusts and depends on Kuramochi wholeheartedly, at the end of the day it’s not like he has full access to the inner workings of his mind, and therefore wouldn’t know anything about his opinion on people liking the same sex. Kazuya is relieved beyond words that he’s still able to talk to him, the same as always. Kazuya’s appreciative of the fact that, despite how he looks and acts, Kuramochi has always been empathetic and would hear you out as long as he feels you’re serious.
Kazuya doesn’t resist the urge to slowly inch his head closer towards Kuramochi’s. “And, you know, this still doesn’t confirm anything in my head.” Kazuya looks at Kuramochi under his eyelashes, speaking in a whisper now.
“What do you mean?” Kuramochi hesitantly matches Kazuya’s quiet. “You just admitted to having liked a senpai.”
“You agreed to help me, right?” Kazuya’s heart is thumping loudly against his chest. Now that he’s aired out his thoughts about the two confessions and his past crush with Chris, his thoughts are somehow much more in shambles than before. Kazuya isn’t sure what to do or say next, but for some reason he doesn’t want to leave it at that just yet.
“Yeah, I did,” Kuramochi nods, “but I’m not sure what you want me to do next. If you don’t spell it out -”
Ah, Kazuya thinks, I really don’t get it . Kazuya doesn’t get the reason for his current unrest despite being able to address the thoughts that had been gnawing at him the past few weeks. Kazuya doesn’t get the reason why he feels a warm flood of anticipation swirling in his gut at the sight of Kuramochi’s disheveled state and the way his eyes dart to and from his face. It’s all too sudden, and instead of letting the feelings of relief and calm awash inside him, Kazuya finds himself riding the high that came from this suddenly strange atmosphere.
“Can I come closer?” Kazuya asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. He inches dangerously close to Kuramochi, able to feel the other’s hitched breathing on his skin. Kazuya could see how red Kuramochi’s face has gotten since they started to talk tonight, and wonders if his own face is also taking the same shade. Kazuya could hear the shuffling of fabric beneath him, Kuramochi scrambling to grab a hold of something to keep his balance.
“What -”
“You know,” Kazuya says, under his breath. He can hear his pulse wildly beating in his ears. “I found you very cool recently, vice-captain .”
Kazuya swiftly closes the distance between them, ignoring what little rational thought he has left. He seals their lips in a kiss, taking in the way the Kuramochi’s chapped lips feel on his, how regrettably blurry the lenses of his glasses are for him to take in the view properly, and how cold the evening fall air has gotten. Kazuya proceeds to close his eyes, letting himself feel.
And Kazuya felt so, so much. He felt his heart and guts getting fuller by the microsecond as he took in the rough concrete they both sat on, the way he could feel their body heat slowly turn into one. He feels like he’s surfing through the erratic beating of his heart like ocean waves, the mixture of fear and bliss and euphoria guiding him through. He suddenly finds himself wanting to know more: if Kuramochi’s heart is beating as fast as Kazuya’s, or the way Kuramochi’s calloused hands feel against his own, or how things other than Kuramochi’s lips taste like to Kazuya. Kazuya shifts his position slightly, letting a small part of greed take over to take a small nip of Kuramochi’s bottom lip. Kazuya could feel the other flinch, but he stops himself from going any further.
Kazuya knows that he has already stepped on the line at this point, and couldn’t bring himself to find out what happens if he crosses it. The kiss lasts for mere moments as Kazuya’s inhibition pulls him away from Kuramochi. It’s too short , Kazuya thinks. I could’ve lingered longer, I could’ve cupped his face to lead him -
“You - !” Kuramochi covers his mouth with his right hand, but unable to hide the rest of his deeply flushed face and the bewildered look in his eyes.
“I…” Kazuya struggles to find the correct words to say, let alone finding a rational explanation for why he did what he did. He decides to take on his usual irritating grin and smooth tone, feigning nonchalance despite his inability to look Kuramochi in the eye. He really shouldn’t have done this. “I think you’ve helped me enough. Thanks. You should go back to your room.”
“Wait, have you already figured -”
Kazuya quickly stands up and walks straight back to his dorm room, passing by people who finished practice late. He walked, undeterred by the strange looks they threw at him. He doesn't have the courage to hear what Kuramochi has to say to him tonight, and he’s relieved by the fact that he hasn’t heard Kuramochi behind him following Kazuya back to the door of his room.
With his newfound confirmation about an aspect of himself, Kazuya already dreads going to morning practice the next day.
🐆🎮
“Is he insane? Sick in the head? I’ll kill him when I see him tomorrow. Hope he dies before I kill him. Fuckass four-eyes. Fuck did he do to me?” Youichi scratches his head with his free hand, his hair still damp from the bath. He had been writing his mumblings on the back of a random notebook he picked up from his desk, desperate to do anything he could inside his room to calm his nerves. Youichi couldn’t possibly go back outside to cool down, as he’s not ready in the event that he comes across him the same night.
“He found me ‘very cool recently’? Fuck right off.” Journaling is a ridiculous idea , Youichi finds himself thinking. He gives up writing coherent sentences and instead runs his pen around the whole page, scribbling over his writings. How could words begin to express anything he’s feeling right now, when his mind is filled to the brim with the most colorful swear words he knows, and the way Miyuki looked at him earlier under his eyelashes, his expression under the glow from the windows of the building beside them, brows slightly furrowed and lips ajar, inching closer -
The door to their dorm room swings open, revealing a Sawamura roughly drying his wet hair with a towel. His eyes land on Kuramochi laid down on the bed and inquisitively raises an eyebrow.
“Woah, senpai, you’re so red.” Sawamura comments, walking towards Youichi. He stops by the side of his bed and extends his hand to his forehead. “Are you sick? Did you use boiling hot bath water or something?”
“I’m killing you if you don’t shut up.” Youichi swats Sawamura’s hand away, turning his face away from him in an attempt to hide the flush Youichi didn’t realize he had. “Leave me alone. Go to sleep or something.”
Sawamura pulls back, furrowing his brows at Youichi’s unwarranted hostility. “Jeez, ‘was just trying to help.” He switches his attention to the notebook Youichi is holding, and raises an eyebrow as if noticing something but doesn’t comment on it. “If you want to talk about it, I’m just here, you know.” Sawamura turns, hopping on to the other bed in the room.
Youichi makes a noise of acknowledgement, and adjusts the way he’s sitting on the bed, the unfolded blanket underneath him getting wrinkled further. He looks at his open notebook, the words he wrote still legible even with the frustrated scribbling. Youichi’s eyes land on the ‘fuck did he do to me?’ sloppily written on the page just earlier, the words ringing in his head like ripples on a puddle during rain.
Youichi closes his notebook, noticing that he had actually been writing on it upside down the whole time. He sinks himself further on his bed, deciding to count the number of wood grains the top bunk has to try and coerce himself to sleep. He already knows that it’s futile.
“Ah… what does this say about me..?”