Archive of Our Own

“STRIKE! BATTER OUT!” The umpire’s voice kept replaying in Mei’s mind. The way the other team immediately ran to their pitcher and lifted him up as they celebrated. The way they were all lifting him up, praising him, adoring him and doing everything that Mei was supposed to experience. It was like a stab in Mei’s heart when he saw it.

The silence in the room felt suffocating. He had shut everyone out—his teammates, his friends, and Kazuya. Kazuya’s messages continued to flood in, each one more worried than the last. Mei’s heart broke with each unread text, but he couldn’t open them. He couldn’t explain how deeply the loss had affected him, or how much he missed having Kazuya there by his side.

Mei’s stomach twisted with the absence of Kazuya’s presence, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his room or answer the messages. Days passed in this self-imposed isolation, each moment feeling like an eternity. He barely slept, staying up late into the night, replaying the game in his mind. Every missed strike, every miscalculated decision felt like a personal failure. The longer he stayed holed up, the more his mind spiraled.

It was the thought that gnawed at him, the one that tortured him the most. Kazuya—Miyuki Kazuya, the one person Mei had always been able to count on—wasn’t there. Kazuya was at Seido, leading his own team. And even though Mei knew he had his own responsibilities, he couldn’t stop the feelings of emptiness that washed over him. They were childhood friends, and now... more than that. Mei had always trusted Kazuya with everything—his pitches, his thoughts, his feelings—but now he felt like the loss was too heavy to bear alone.

When Kazuya first heard about Inashiro’s loss, he knew it would be a big deal. It was the kind of loss that left a stain, the kind people wouldn’t forget anytime soon. He overheard some of his teammates talking about it after practice, their voices hushed yet filled with the weight of understanding.

“They got crushed,” one of them muttered. “Narumiya didn’t even look like himself out there.”

Kazuya, tying his cleats at the time, stilled at those words. He didn’t ask for details—he didn’t need to. Instead, after practice, with sweat still clinging to his skin, he pulled out his phone and fired off a quick message to Mei.

Kazuya: Heard about the game. You okay?

No response.

That didn’t worry him—not at first. Mei wasn’t the type to immediately reply, especially after a bad game. He’d probably stew in frustration for a while before texting back with some snarky remark to save face. Kazuya gave him space, figuring he’d respond by the next day.

Except he didn’t.

A day passed. Then another. Then three.

Kazuya sent another message.

Kazuya: Oi. Answer me, Mei. Don’t make me come drag you out myself.

Still nothing.

That’s when the worry truly set in.

Mei never ignored him like this. Sure, he could be dramatic, but he wasn’t the type to go completely silent. Not to Kazuya. Not when they had this unspoken understanding, this bond that had stretched between them since they were kids.

By the fifth day, Kazuya was done waiting. He grabbed his bag, informed his coach that he had “something important to take care of,” and took the train straight to Inashiro’s campus.
It was late afternoon by the time he arrived. The dorm building loomed before him, familiar in a way that made his chest tighten.

He had been here before, sneaking in and out whenever Mei had dragged him over during their first year of high school. Back when things had been different—back when Mei wasn’t carrying the weight of the entire team on his shoulders.

Kazuya didn’t hesitate. He made his way inside, navigating the hallways with ease, until he reached Mei’s room. The door was closed, the hallway eerily silent. He knocked once.

No response.

He knocked again, louder this time. “Mei.”

Still nothing.

Kazuya’s jaw tightened. He tested the doorknob—locked. Of course it was. But that wasn’t about to stop him. He knocked one last time, voice firm yet lacking its usual teasing edge.

“Mei, open the door.”

Silence.

Something in Kazuya’s gut twisted. But before he could do anything else, the door suddenly opened and in front of him was Mei, glaring at him.

His blond hair was disheveled, his hoodie too big on his frame, sleeves bunched around his fists. His eyes, red-rimmed and tired, barely lifted while looking at Kazuya.

“Mei.”

The only response he got was a shallow breath and the slight tightening of Mei’s hands against his hoodie.

Kazuya took a step closer. “You’ve been ignoring me.”

Mei let out a breath—half a laugh, half something bitter. “Figured you’d take the hint. Go away Kazuya”

Kazuya ignored that. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Not a compliment.”

Kazuya didn’t wait for permission when he pushed the door open all the way, stepping inside before Mei could stop him. The room was a mess—blankets strewn across the bed, empty water bottles on the desk, and Mei’s uniform crumpled in the corner like he had thrown it there in frustration.

Mei took a step back, his fingers clenching at the hem of his hoodie. His eyes were puffy, his expression twisted into something Kazuya rarely saw on him—exhaustion.

“…I told you to leave,” Mei muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kazuya crossed his arms, leaning casually against the wall. “Yeah, well. I don’t listen.”

Mei let out a bitter scoff. “Tch. No shit.”

Silence filled the room. Mei kept his head down, but Kazuya didn’t miss the way his shoulders trembled.

“…How long are you planning to mope like this?” Kazuya finally asked, voice softer than before.

Mei’s grip tightened on his hoodie. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Forever, maybe.”

Kazuya let out a breath. “Mei—”

Mei let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Sounds nice, doesn’t it? Just shutting everything out. Pretending it doesn’t exist.” His voice cracked slightly, and he bit down on his lip, hard enough that Kazuya was half-convinced it’d start bleeding.

Kazuya sighed, pushing off the wall. “Yeah, except it doesn’t work like that.”

Mei flinched when he heard Kazuya’s footsteps approaching. He didn’t lift his head, though—didn’t want to see whatever expression was on Kazuya’s face. Pity, probably. Or worse, understanding. Mei wasn’t sure he could handle either.

But Kazuya didn’t say anything for a moment. He just stood there, close enough that Mei could feel his presence, steady and unyielding. And then, without a word, Kazuya reached out and tugged at the hood of Mei’s hoodie, pulling it up over his head like he was shielding him from the world.

Mei stiffened. “What the hell—?”

“Shut up,” Kazuya muttered. “Just let it happen.”

Mei scowled, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let himself sink further into the fabric, shoulders curling inward. The hoodie was warm, and the weight of it over his head made the world feel a little smaller, a little quieter. Less suffocating.

Only it didn’t last long because he suddenly remembers who this is. It’s Kazuya, probably went here because of how long he has ignored his messages. Mei feels another lump in his throat start to form before he breaks the silence.

“I ruined it.” Mei’s voice cracked. “I ruined everything.”

Kazuya’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not true.”

Mei let out a harsh laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Oh, really? Then tell me why we lost. Tell me why I couldn’t stop them. Tell me why—” His breath hitched, and he cut himself off. Kazuya stayed quiet. He wasn’t going to feed into Mei’s self-destruction, but he also knew Mei needed to let this out.

Mei turned away from him, shoulders shaking. “I thought I was good enough,” he whispered. “I thought I could do it, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t enough.”

Kazuya stepped closer. “Mei.”

“I keep thinking… if you had been there…” Mei let out a choked breath, his fingers trembling as he wiped his face. “If you had been my catcher, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Kazuya’s eyes widened slightly, but Mei wasn’t done.
“I hate that you’re at Seidō,” he confessed, voice shaking. “I hate that you’re not here. I hate that when I needed you the most, you weren’t there.”

Kazuya felt something heavy settle in his chest.

Mei turned around, face flushed and eyes glassy with unshed tears. “You—” His breath hitched. “You should’ve picked me.” Kazuya’s stomach twisted. “Mei…”

“I wanted you to be my catcher.” Mei’s voice broke completely, and before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

“I wanted you to be mine.”

Kazuya froze.

Mei’s eyes widened in realization, and in an instant, his face turned red. “I—I didn’t—” He sucked in a sharp breath, panic flashing across his expression.

Kazuya blinked. “Wait.”

Mei took a step back, shaking his head furiously. “Forget it.”

Kazuya’s lips parted slightly, his heartbeat hammering in his chest. “Mei, say that again.”

“Nope.” Mei spun around and dove onto his bed, yanking the blanket over his head. “I didn’t say anything.”

Kazuya stared at the lump of blankets Mei had buried himself under, completely dumbfounded.

Kazuya stood there, stunned, as Mei refused to emerge from his blanket cocoon. His brain was still catching up to what just happened, the words repeating in his head like an echo that wouldn’t fade.

I wanted you to be mine.

His fingers twitched at his side. The weight of those words settled in his chest, heavy and warm, something that made his pulse quicken.

Kazuya didn’t move from where he loomed over Mei’s curled-up form, as the silence stretched on. Mei had gone completely still under the blanket, but Kazuya could see the slight rise and fall of his breathing—shaky, uneven.

“Mei.” Kazuya’s voice was firmer now, leaving no room for avoidance. “Talk to me.”

No answer.

Kazuya sighed, fingers tightening against the mattress before he reached out, gripping the blanket and yanking it down just enough to reveal Mei’s face.

Mei flinched, his eyes wide and red-rimmed, panic flashing across them as he immediately tried to burrow deeper into the sheets. But Kazuya was faster, catching his wrist and holding him in place.

“Let go,” Mei muttered, voice strained.

“Not until you talk to me.”

Mei clenched his jaw, his lips trembling. “There’s nothing to—”

“Bullshit,” Kazuya cut him off, his grip firm but not forceful. “You don’t get to drop something like that and then pretend it didn’t happen.”

Mei swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. His fingers twitched in Kazuya’s hold, his whole body taut like a wire ready to snap.
Kazuya softened his voice, though the intensity in his gaze didn’t waver. “Mei. Just say it.”

Mei’s breath hitched. His shoulders trembled, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he was trying to physically hold everything back. But something in Kazuya’s expression must have shattered whatever was left of his restraint, because suddenly, Mei’s face twisted with anger and something far more painful—resentment, heartbreak, longing.

“You want me to say it?” Mei’s voice cracked, his eyes glistening as he yanked his wrist out of Kazuya’s grasp. “Fine. I wanted you to be mine, Kazuya.”

Kazuya froze, but Mei wasn’t done. His hands clenched into fists as he sat up fully, his breathing uneven as the words came pouring out, raw and unfiltered.

“Even before, when we were kids, I knew you were the one for me—catcher or lover or both, I didn’t care! I just wanted you!” Mei’s voice wavered, but he pushed forward, his eyes burning. “I wanted and yearned for you to be mine, but no. You chose Seidou.”

Kazuya’s eyes widened.

Mei let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “But of course, I can’t blame you for that, can I? Because then I’ll look like the selfish asshole who wanted to keep you all to myself.” His voice trembled, thick with years of bottled-up emotions, eyes glassy as tears clung to his lashes. “So what did I do? Oh, right. I just let you be.”

The room was deathly silent except for the sound of Mei’s shaky breathing, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His hands had dug into his hoodie, knuckles turning white, as if he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.

Kazuya’s throat felt tight. He hadn’t expected… this. He always knew Mei had a complicated way of expressing himself, but hearing him lay everything out like this, voice breaking under the weight of emotions he had never allowed himself to speak—it made something inside Kazuya ache.

Kazuya’s chest tightened as he watched Mei, his heart pounding in his ears, each word that spilled from Mei’s lips cutting deeper than the last. The anger and frustration in Mei’s voice only made the weight of it all heavier, as if every part of him that had been stifled for years was finally breaking free.
Mei’s breath caught as he wiped at his eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop. They kept coming, thick and unrelenting, like the dam he’d held up all this time was finally cracking. His voice became hoarse, ragged.

“I watched you go, Kazuya,” Mei continued, his eyes burning with pain. “I watched you leave for Seidou, and it felt like I didn’t even exist anymore. You were so focused on your future, on your team, on your game... and I—” He broke off, inhaling sharply, his whole body shaking. “And I was supposed to just stand by and watch you get further and further away.”

Kazuya flinched, as if the words themselves had struck him. He could feel the weight of Mei’s unspoken words—those years of silence that had built up between them.

Mei let out a frustrated, bitter laugh, his voice cracking. “You don’t get it, do you? All I wanted was to be someone worth your time, someone worth choosing, but you—” He clenched his fists in his lap, the fabric of his hoodie twisting under his grip.

“You were always so far out of reach, Kazuya. You were always so perfect, so damn talented, and I…” Mei’s breath shuddered, and he just shook his head, unable to finish. “I never even had a chance.”

There was a long pause. The air between them felt impossibly thick, as if everything Mei had said had filled the space with such weight that neither of them knew how to move forward.

“I hated myself for it,” Mei whispered, his voice breaking as his hands finally relaxed at his sides. “I hated that I couldn’t do anything to change it, hated that I wasn’t enough. But I let you go anyway.” He closed his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek. “And I told myself it was fine, that you deserved to be happy, that I should just be happy that you were doing what you loved. But I’m not. I’m not fine, Kazuya.”

Kazuya’s chest tightened as Mei’s voice trailed off, his eyes wide, as if trying to make sense of everything, but nothing was making sense anymore.

Mei finally stopped, the last words dying in his throat as his breath hitched, and without warning, the tears that had been threatening to spill poured freely. His shoulders trembled as he let out a choked sob, his face crumpling as all the raw emotion he had kept hidden for so long broke through the dam he had built. Kazuya remained frozen, his eyes locked on Mei, struggling to process the depth of what had just been laid bare in front of him. All the years of distance between them suddenly felt so much heavier, and he realized just how much Mei had suffered in silence.

Kazuya opened his mouth, but no words came out. All he could do was watch as Mei broke down, the weight of everything pressing down on him too much to bear.

Mei’s sobs were quiet but uncontrollable, his shoulders shaking with each breath he sucked in. He had spent years holding this in—years pretending it didn’t matter, pretending he was fine, that he had moved past it. But now, with Kazuya right in front of him, looking at him with those eyes—warm, understanding, and so painfully unreadable—it was like every wall he had built came crashing down all at once.

Kazuya exhaled slowly, his own chest aching at the sight. Mei Narumiya never cried. He got angry, he pouted, he acted smug and stubborn, but he never let himself be this vulnerable. Yet here he was, breaking apart in front of him, voice wrecked and face streaked with tears.

Kazuya reached out instinctively, his hand hovering just above Mei’s hunched figure before finally resting on his head. His fingers curled gently into Mei’s hair, hesitating for only a second before stroking it softly. Mei stiffened at the contact but didn’t pull away.

“…Mei.” Kazuya’s voice was low, steady, the kind of voice meant to ground someone rather than push them further over the edge. Mei let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping his hoodie tightly, as if he was trying to physically hold himself together. But Kazuya’s hand remained on his head, warm and unwavering, and it made something deep inside him want to collapse completely. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Kazuya murmured after a beat, his fingers still gently moving through Mei’s hair.

Mei let out a weak, bitter chuckle between uneven breaths. “Like it would’ve changed anything.” His voice was still thick with emotion, his words slurred slightly from exhaustion. “You had Seidou, you had your team. You had everything, Kazuya. And I… I didn’t want to be the pathetic idiot who begged you to choose me.”

Kazuya’s grip on Mei’s hair tightened slightly at that. “You’re an idiot, alright,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, almost frustrated. “But not for that.”

Mei finally looked up at him, his red-rimmed eyes glossy and raw. Kazuya stared back, his expression unreadable but impossibly soft in a way Mei hadn’t seen before.

Kazuya let out a slow, measured sigh before shifting on the bed. Without hesitation, he sat down beside Mei, his arm brushing against Mei’s as he leaned back slightly, supporting himself with one hand. His other hand remained in Mei’s hair, fingers still threading through the strands with an almost absentminded gentleness.

“I didn’t choose Seidou over you,” Kazuya finally said, his voice quieter now, but firm. “It was never about that.”

Mei tensed beside him, but he didn’t interrupt. He just stared down at his lap, fists clenched in the fabric of his hoodie.

Kazuya continued. “I wanted to go against the best. That’s the kind of baseball I love—the kind where I can challenge the strongest players and prove that I can win. And, Mei…” He exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly. “There was no better person to go up against than you.”

Mei sucked in a sharp breath, his jaw tightening. The words hit something deep, something raw, something that made his heart twist painfully in his chest. It wasn’t that he didn’t already know—of course he knew. Kazuya wasn’t the type to sit still, to settle for anything less than the top. And still…

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Mei’s voice was strained, cracking at the edges. His hands trembled slightly in his lap. “That I was some kind of rival you wanted to conquer?” He let out a shaky breath, laughing bitterly. “What a joke.”

Kazuya shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

Mei turned to him then, his eyes still watery but burning with frustration. “Then what the hell are you saying?”

Kazuya didn’t look away. He held Mei’s gaze, his expression steady. “I never meant to hurt you, Mei. I thought you understood that baseball would always be my priority.”

Mei flinched at that, his breath hitching, and Kazuya immediately softened his tone.

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t matter to me.” Kazuya’s hand left Mei’s hair, moving instead to rest on his back, rubbing small, slow circles between his shoulder blades. “You’re important to me, Mei.”

Mei’s breath hitched at Kazuya’s words, and for a moment, he was frozen, staring at him, unsure whether he had heard him correctly. His heart pounded in his chest, and his mind raced to make sense of it. Kazuya’s gaze was steady, unwavering, but there was something different in it now—something deeper that Mei had never seen before.

Kazuya, sensing the silence stretching too long, shifted slightly, his hand still resting gently on Mei’s back. He cleared his throat, looking slightly uncomfortable, as if he wasn’t sure how to continue.

“You’re important to me, Mei,” Kazuya repeated, his voice steady despite the slight tension in his shoulders. “I know I’m not the best with words, but…” He hesitated, clearly struggling with what to say next. Mei’s eyes were wide, and he could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, each beat a reminder of the words that Kazuya had just said, and what they might mean.

Kazuya ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit that only made Mei more aware of how seriously he was taking this. “I’ve known for a long time, Mei,” Kazuya continued, his voice a little rough around the edges. “You’re not just some rival to me. You’re different.”

Mei’s chest tightened, his thoughts colliding in a jumbled mess as he stared at Kazuya, unsure how to process it all. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. The shock was overwhelming, his emotions a confusing mixture of hope, disbelief, and fear. Fear that it was all a mistake, that maybe he was imagining this whole conversation.

Kazuya, clearly sensing Mei’s hesitation, took a slow, steadying breath and finally looked him directly in the eyes. His gaze softened as he continued, words tumbling out almost too quickly for him to stop. “I’ve never really said it, but I’ve always known you’re important to me. You’re more than just someone I wanted to beat, more than a friend or a rival. You’ve always been… someone I needed, Mei. Not just in baseball, but outside of it, too. I—I care about you.”

Mei’s throat went dry. His heart was racing, the words not making sense at first. Was Kazuya really saying what he thought he was saying?

“You…” Mei blinked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t be serious. Don’t mess with me, Kazuya.” His words came out broken, unsure, because a part of him still couldn’t bring himself to believe it. He had spent so much time silently loving Kazuya from the sidelines, never imagining that this—this confession—could happen.

Kazuya sighed softly, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his lips, despite the tension still hanging between them. “I wouldn’t joke about something like this, Mei,” he said, his voice firm, but with that touch of sincerity that Mei could no longer doubt. For a moment, Mei just stared at him, struggling to process everything. His hands trembled slightly as his mind raced, and for a second, he wanted to say something—anything—to push this feeling of disbelief away. But all he could do was look at Kazuya, his chest tightening with something that felt like relief mixed with a strange kind of vulnerability.

“You’re… serious?” Mei finally managed to ask, his voice cracking at the end.

Kazuya nodded, his gaze unwavering, and the sincerity in his eyes was undeniable. “Yeah. I am.”

Mei couldn’t hold back a quiet laugh, something broken and a little disbelieving, but also full of the weight that had been lifting off his chest since Kazuya’s confession. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, not out of sadness, but out of the overwhelming relief of finally hearing the words he had wanted to hear for so long.

“I never thought…” Mei started, his voice trailing off as he finally let the weight of it all sink in. “I never thought you’d say that.” Kazuya just shook his head softly. “Me neither, honestly. But I don’t want to keep pretending anymore.” He looked at Mei seriously, his hand still resting lightly on his back. “I’m not great with words, but you… you matter to me. I always knew you were more than just a rival. And I think…” Kazuya paused, his voice quiet but firm, “I think I like you, Mei. More than I’ve ever let on.”

The words hung in the air between them for a moment, a long stretch of silence that felt heavier than anything Mei had ever felt before. But this time, it wasn’t the suffocating silence of distance or misunderstanding—it was something different. Something fragile but real.

“Say it again.” Mei suddenly says which makes Kazuya look at him confusedly.

“That line. Say it again.” Mei says a little more forcefully.

“What? I like you Mei?”

Mei takes a deep exhale and a small smile is beginning to form on his lips.

“Again.”

Kazuya looks at him amusedly and raises his eyebrows.
“Again, Kazuya!” And because Kazuya knows when Mei wants something he will always get it, he repeats it again. “I like you, Mei.”

And the smile that was on Mei’s face made the embarrassment he felt a bit worth it.

A few hours had passed since Mei had stubbornly made Kazuya repeat those words over and over again, grinning wider each time he heard them. Eventually, the weight of exhaustion had settled over them both, and somehow, they had ended up sprawled out on Mei’s bed, tangled together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Mei had shamelessly nestled himself into Kazuya’s personal space, his head resting against Kazuya’s shoulder, one of his arms draped lazily over his chest. He looked perfectly content, his breathing slow and steady, his body warm against Kazuya’s. Meanwhile, Kazuya had his phone in one hand, idly scrolling through messages as he typed out a quick text to Kuramochi.

Kazuya: I’m gonna be late for practice tomorrow. Don’t wait up. It took less than a minute for Kuramochi to reply.

Kuramochi: What? You? Late? You sick or something?

Kuramochi: Wait. ARE YOU DYING?

Kazuya snorted, shaking his head in amusement before locking his phone and tossing it onto the nightstand.

Mei, who had been comfortably dozing against him, stirred slightly at the movement. He blinked up at Kazuya sleepily. “What’re you laughing at?”

“Kuramochi thinks I’m dying just because I told him I’d be late,” Kazuya said with a smirk.

Mei let out a small, amused huff, shifting even closer, if that was even possible. “Well, it is kinda weird. You of all people would never be late to practice intentionally”

Kazuya hummed, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Maybe I just have something important to do that I should’ve done long ago.”
Mei rolled his eyes but didn’t move away, instead nuzzling a little closer into Kazuya’s warmth. “Damn right you do.”

Kazuya smirked down at Mei, who had now fully taken over his side of the bed, looking far too comfortable for someone who was just bawling his eyes out earlier.

“You still haven’t eaten, huh?” Kazuya asked, his tone soft but pointed. He knew the signs, and he could tell Mei hadn’t been taking care of himself the way he should. The way his skin was a little paler than usual, and how his energy seemed lower than normal—it was obvious.

Mei blinked lazily up at him, giving a half-hearted shrug. “I’m fine,” he muttered, not making any effort to move.

“No, you’re not,” Kazuya replied with a shake of his head. “Get up. You’re eating something whether you like it or not.”

Mei let out a small groan, rolling over onto his stomach as he buried his face in the pillow. “I don’t feel like it, Kazuya…”

“You don’t have to feel like it,” Kazuya said with a small smile, standing up and stretching. “I’m making you something, and you’re gonna eat it. End of story.”

Mei’s muffled voice came from the pillow. “I really don’t need anything. Just go back to bed and—”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Kazuya interrupted, already heading toward the door. “Stay put.”

Mei didn’t argue, but Kazuya could practically feel his irritation from across the room. Still, Kazuya wasn’t going to let him off the hook. He could sense Mei’s exhaustion, the way he was avoiding taking care of himself. Kazuya wasn’t about to let that slide. Once he was in the small kitchen of Mei’s dorm, Kazuya opened the fridge, staring inside for a moment. It wasn’t stocked with much—some takeout containers, a few drinks, and a couple of things that didn’t seem to have much use. But Kazuya was determined. Mei hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days, and Kazuya wasn’t going to let him go on like this.

After a quick survey, He grabbed some eggs, a half-finished carton of vegetables, and whatever leftover rice he could find. He wasn’t a gourmet chef by any stretch of the imagination, but he could make a decent stir-fry or fried rice if he had to. As he cracked eggs into a bowl, he found himself thinking about Mei again—how stubborn he could be, how much he shut people out when things got tough. Mei had always been like that, even when they were kids. He hated asking for help, even when he needed it most.

Kazuya exhaled as he started heating a pan on the stove. He wasn’t about to let Mei go through this alone, not anymore. If he had to drag him into eating something, then so be it. By the time the food was sizzling in the pan, Kazuya could hear Mei shuffling around in the other room, probably attempting to avoid the inevitable. Kazuya just chuckled to himself. He’d be back in a few minutes, food in hand, and Mei would eat whether he liked it or not.

A few minutes later, Kazuya walked back into the bedroom, a steaming plate of fried rice in hand. The aroma filled the room, and he wasn’t surprised to see Mei still sprawled on the bed, though his eyes were now half-open, lazily watching Kazuya as he approached.

“Alright, sit up,” Kazuya ordered, holding out the plate.

Mei groaned dramatically, burying his face back into the pillow. “Don’t wanna.”

Kazuya rolled his eyes but smirked. “Oh? Guess I’ll just have to eat this myself then.”

At that, Mei peeked up at him, his nose scrunching slightly in offense. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” Kazuya grabbed the spoon and made a show of scooping up some rice, bringing it toward his mouth.

“Wait—fine, fine!” Mei huffed, finally pushing himself up into a sitting position. His hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles, and his eyes were still heavy with sleep, but Kazuya couldn’t help but think he looked adorable.

Satisfied, Kazuya plopped down beside him, handing over the plate. “Eat.”

Mei took the spoon and scooped up a bite, stuffing it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, his expression unreadable for a moment before he swallowed.

“…It’s not bad,” he admitted begrudgingly.

“Not bad? That’s the thanks I get for making you food?”

“It’s good, okay? Happy now?”

Kazuya hummed, leaning back on one arm as he watched Mei eat. “Yeah. I am.”

Mei glanced at him, something flickering in his gaze, but he didn’t say anything. He just continued eating, finishing the meal without further complaint. When he was done, he handed the empty plate back to Kazuya, who set it aside on the nightstand.

With a satisfied sigh, Mei flopped back down onto the bed, stretching his arms above his head. “Ugh, now I’m really full…”

Kazuya chuckled. “Good. You needed it.”

Mei didn’t respond, instead reaching out and grabbing Kazuya’s wrist, tugging him down onto the bed as well. Kazuya let himself be pulled, settling beside him, and Mei immediately curled up against his side, resting his head on Kazuya’s chest. They stayed like that for a while, neither of them speaking. Kazuya absently ran his fingers through Mei’s hair, his other hand resting against Mei’s back. The steady rhythm of Mei’s breathing was calming, and for the first time that night, Kazuya felt like things were… right.

“…Hey, Kazuya?” Mei mumbled sleepily.

“Hm?”

“…Say it again.”

Kazuya smiled softly. He didn’t even hesitate.

“I like you, Mei.”

A small, satisfied smile was on his lips before muttering. “Good.”
Kazuya chuckled, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of Mei’s head. “Go to sleep, Mei.”

And with that, they both drifted off, tangled together, warm and content in each other’s presence.

The next morning, Mei sat up on the bed, arms crossed and an unmistakable pout on his face. His narrowed eyes were locked onto Kazuya, who was standing by the mirror, adjusting his Seidou uniform and fixing his hair. The irritation rolling off Mei was almost palpable.

Kazuya, of course, noticed. He always did. And he had the audacity to chuckle.

“You’re glaring holes into my back,” Kazuya mused as he glanced at Mei through the mirror.

“Good,” Mei grumbled, flopping back onto the bed before immediately sitting up again, still watching Kazuya like an offended cat. “I still don’t like this.”

Kazuya turned around, walking over to the edge of the bed with an easy grin. “I can’t just stay here forever, you know. I have practice.”

“I know,” Mei huffed, gripping the blanket tighter in his lap. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Kazuya shook his head, amused, and reached out to ruffle Mei’s already messy hair. Mei swatted at his hand halfheartedly but didn’t actually pull away. “We can still message and call each other,” Kazuya reminded him.

Mei made a face. “It’s different from being with you in person.” Kazuya softened at that, kneeling on the bed slightly so they were eye level. “I know.” He gently nudged Mei’s forehead with his own.

“But we’ll see each other during matches. And if you really want—” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “We could spend some weekends at each other’s dorms. Here and there.” Mei stared at him for a moment before scoffing. “I will not be seen anywhere near that blue school.”

Kazuya rolled his eyes with a smirk. “Fine, Your Highness. I’ll adjust.”

Mei gave a satisfied nod, but the pout still lingered. Kazuya sighed, standing up and grabbing his bag. Just as he reached for the door handle, Mei’s voice came, quiet but firm.

“…Does this mean we’re together now?”

Kazuya paused, looking over his shoulder at Mei, who was now staring down at the sheets, fiddling with the fabric. A slow grin spread across Kazuya’s face.

“If we’re not together after how much you abused my face with kisses, my parents would be disappointed in me.”

Mei sucked in a sharp breath, his entire face turning red. “Go away!” He shouted, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at Kazuya who caught it with ease.

“Alright, alright. I’m going,” he said, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Mei’s forehead. “See you later, Mei.”

Mei muttered something under his breath, still covering his face, and Kazuya chuckled before finally stepping out of the dorm, leaving behind a very flustered but secretly pleased Mei.

The sun was already high when Kazuya finally made his way toward Seidou’s baseball field. His teammates were well into their practice, the sound of gloves snapping and bats cracking filling the air. As he stepped onto the field, a few heads turned, and the players who noticed him quickly greeted their captain.

“Miyuki-senpai, morning!”

“Yo, Miyuki-san.”

Kazuya just gave them a nod in acknowledgment, his usual smirk absent. He was already preparing himself for what was coming next.

Sure enough, before he could even begin warming up, a sharp voice called out.

“Miyuki.”

Kazuya turned to see Coach Kataoka standing a few feet away, arms crossed and expression unreadable.

“You’re late,” Kataoka stated, his gaze steady. “Give me one good reason.”

Kazuya, who obviously couldn’t say I spent the night with a player in Inashiro, simply shrugged. “No excuse, sir.”

Kataoka narrowed his eyes for a moment before sighing. “Ten laps. Now.”

Without complaint, Kazuya set off running, his pace steady as he completed his punishment. By the time he finished, his breath was uneven, and sweat clung to his skin. He grabbed his water bottle from the dugout and took a long sip, only to hear a familiar, loud voice approaching.

“Miyuki-senpai!!!”

Kazuya barely had time to brace himself before Sawamura was right in front of him, practically bouncing on his feet. “You’re late! That never happens! Did something happen?”

Kazuya gave him a flat look before casually wiping sweat off his forehead. “It’s nothing,” he said, voice relaxed despite the exhaustion in his muscles. “You should be more worried about practicing your pitches instead of my schedule.”

Sawamura immediately straightened, puffing out his chest. “I have been practicing! Just you wait—my pitches are gonna blow everyone away today!”

“Uh-huh. We’ll see about that,” Kazuya muttered, waving him off. Sawamura, now fully fired up, ran back to the field to resume practice.

As soon as he was gone, a low chuckle came from Kazuya’s side. “So?”

Kazuya turned to see Kuramochi standing beside him, arms crossed and wearing a smirk that only meant trouble.

“Where were you, really?” Kuramochi asked, clearly already suspecting something.

Kazuya sighed, rolling his eyes as he took another sip of water. “I went to Inashiro.”

Kuramochi cackled, clapping him on the shoulder. “I knew it! Damn, Miyuki, you actually stayed over at Mei’s place?”

“Mind your business.”

Kuramochi whistled. “Nah, this is definitely my business. I gotta know—how whipped are you?”

Kazuya scoffed, tossing his empty water bottle “Shut up and get back to practice.”

Kuramochi only laughed harder, but he let it go—for now.

The rest of practice went by in a blur for Kazuya. The team's usual intensity was there, but his mind kept drifting back to Mei—his smile, the way he looked up at Kazuya with that glint of something more than just friendship in his eyes. The thought was both comforting and confusing, but as much as he wanted to lose himself in those thoughts, he had a job to do. The game was coming up, and Seidou needed him at his best.

Later that evening, when practice was finally over and the team was heading back to the locker rooms, Kazuya was exhausted but satisfied. He’d given it his all, as usual. His phone buzzed in his pocket as he grabbed his bag, and he pulled it out to see a new message.

Mei: You alive over there?

Kazuya smirked, typing back quickly.

Kazuya: Yeah, barely. Coach had me running laps. He doesn’t know how to let me off easy.

Mei: Poor baby.

Kazuya:
You’re just jealous. You miss me already?

There was a pause before Mei’s reply came through.

Mei: Maybe. A little. Just hurry up and come back soon.

Kazuya’s grin softened as he typed his final message for the night.

Kazuya: I will. Don’t worry. We’ll see each other again soon enough. Hang in there.

He sent the message, slipping his phone back into his pocket as he headed toward the dorms. It felt different, walking away from the field tonight. There was a sense of peace in knowing he had something—someone—waiting for him beyond the game. He couldn’t deny it anymore.

As he walked to his dorm that evening, the image of Mei's smile lingered in his mind. The long-distance teasing, the playful banter, the tender moments when Mei had let his guard down—it all felt right.

Kazuya wasn’t sure what the future held, but for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t worried about it. He had Mei, and he had baseball. The balance was finally beginning to feel natural. Maybe he didn’t need to choose after all.

As he settled into his bed, tired but content, Kazuya closed his eyes, already looking forward to the next weekend, when he could steal a few days to be with Mei again. He had no idea what kind of relationship they’d build, but for now, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were together—finally.

And that was enough.