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The sun above their heads was warm and the ground below their feet was cool and refreshing where their bare toes touched the grass. The wind blew lightly, allowing a calming breeze to wash over the player gathered at the field. It was, for all intents and purposes, the perfect spring day for baseball. At least it would be, if the pitcher were here.
Abe toed his cleats on, bending down to stretch his back before sitting on the ground and running through his mental list of muscle stretches. Right shoulder, left shoulder, right hip, left hip, right leg, left leg.
There were a dozen things he could do, but only one thing he actually wanted to do. And he desperately needed Mihashi here for that. He wanted to catch, but he needed Mihashi to pitch.
Some thought it was strange, that Abe depended so much on the short, straggly kid who didn’t even have enough self-confidence to fill a thimble, but Abe didn’t see him like that.
Yes, Mihashi was shy and he had a tendency to doubt himself more than the jury doubts the innocence of a serial killer, but he was more than insecurities covered in skin.
To Abe, Mihashi was talent, talent that was the product of years and years of practice. Talent that had been doubted repeatedly by almost everyone around him. Talent that just needed a helping hand, a friend he could trust.
Abe wanted to be that friend. Abe wanted to be the one who got to see the look of excitement on Mihashi’s face when they won a game. He wanted to be the one to congratulate him when Mihashi let no runners get on base because he had struck out the first three batters in that inning. Abe wanted to see the look of pure, unadulterated joy on Mihashi’s face when they went all the way and brought their team – the team that Mihashi so desperately wanted to be a part of – to the winner’s stage after the championship game.
Sometimes Abe wondered about whether his feelings for Mihashi were strictly platonic. At least once a week he asked himself if the strong desire he had to take care of the fair haired boy and protect him at all costs were “normal” feelings one friend had for another. He thought it was strange that he could say without hesitation that he would do anything if it meant Mihashi would be happy, if it meant he would feel like he belonged on the mound.
He didn’t want to think about it, for thinking about it meant coming to a decision and despite how good he was on the field, the idea that he could decide right now about his feelings was ludicrous. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He wanted to be with Mihashi and make Mihashi smile and laugh and see him get excited about baseball, and friends and silly, little things that people besides Mihashi seemed to take for granted.
And once again, he really wanted him here. Like, right now.
Where is he?
Practice had been called to start at three in the afternoon, and it was now nearing half past. The rest of the team had finished stretching and warming up, and it was just Abe and Tajima standing on the grass behind second base, lazily tossing a baseball back and forth until Tajima felt as though his arm had been sufficiently loosened.
Abe worried a little that Mihashi had gotten sick and wondered if it would be too bothersome if he stopped by later, maybe with some onigiri in tow to check up on him. They had another game in four days’ time and Abe knew, as did the rest of the team, that Mihashi was essential to win (though Abe also knew that he cared about Mihashi beyond baseball, and that even if they lost all the baseball games in the world, Abe would still care for Mihashi in this strong, constantly present way).
Abe sat on the bench, listing out silently the ingredients for onigiri and thinking back to whether or not they were stored in his house. I don’t think Mihashi-san will mind if I bring some for her son.
“Abe! Start getting your gear on.”
“Yes, Coach.” Abe replied back, reaching into his bag to grab his shin pads. He was just finishing the strap on the left when he heard it, like a faint ringing in his ear that grew louder with each passing second.
“-un! Abe-kun! Abe-kun!”
Abe turned his head around, a slight smile on his face when he saw Mihashi running towards him, looking very much healthy if not very much guilty for being very much late.
He ran up next to Abe on the bench, depositing his glove and bag on an open spot and jittering in place.
“Mihashi! I almost thought you weren’t going to show up. I uh, kind of assumed you were sick.” Abe rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling somewhat silly for worrying.
“Nope! No! Uh, I was, um, I was practicing pretty late last night! I stayed out too long and overslept this morning and my whole schedule was off! I’m very, very sorry for being late!!” Mihashi was bouncing on the balls of his feet, talking a hundred miles an hour and stumbling incessantly over his words.
Abe was floored. This fucking kid. He grabbed Mihashi’s head and ruffled his hair, laughing at how predictable this was. Only Mihashi would be late to baseball practice because he stayed up long into the night practicing baseball.
When he released Mihashi’s head, he laughed again at the oh so very Mihashi expression he was wearing, with his mouth all drawn up into a diamond like what happens when he gets excited or finds something astonishing.
And Abe realized, while he stood next to Mihashi on the baseball field, with the warm spring sun above them and the cool, fresh grass below them, that he didn’t have to rush his decision. He had all the time in the world to figure out what exactly he felt for Mihashi. As long as he had Mihashi with him, as a friend or as maybe – one day, something more – he would be happy.