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Mei had never been one to complain about pain. He was used to pushing himself to the limit, to ignoring the signs that his body was telling him to rest. That was what it meant to be Inashiro’s ace, after all. He had a reputation to uphold. No one expected Narumiya Mei to sit out, no matter how tired he was.
So, when the headache started the night before, he ignored it. When his throat felt sore in the morning, he brushed it off. And when his body ached as if he had pitched an entire game without rest, he simply gritted his teeth and went about his day.
The last thing he was going to do was tell Kazuya.
He already knew what his boyfriend would say.
"Why didn’t you tell me, Mei?"
"You’re sick, you dumbass. Go to bed."
"I can’t believe you’d hide this from me."
Mei could picture the exasperated frown Kazuya would make, the way he would scold him like an annoying mother hen. But Mei also knew that Kazuya wouldn’t come. Not because he didn’t care—but because he couldn’t.
Seidou had practice. And Kazuya never skipped practice.
That was just the kind of person Kazuya was. Reliable, dedicated, and the kind of idiot who would never let his team down. Mei respected that about him. Hell, he loved that about him.
So, Mei swallowed his sickness down and dragged himself to school like nothing was wrong.
Except everything was wrong.
By the time he reached the field, his head was pounding, and his vision blurred at the edges. He barely had the strength to grip a baseball, much less practice. His teammates had noticed immediately—he wasn’t acting like himself. He wasn’t making snarky comments, wasn’t throwing his usual perfect pitches. Carlos was the first to say something.
“Oi, Narumiya, you look like shit.”
“Shut up,” Mei grumbled, wiping sweat from his forehead. It was cold outside, but he felt like he was burning.
“Seriously, you okay?” Carlos frowned, watching him closely. “You look pale.”
“I’m fine.” Mei forced himself to straighten up, as if standing taller would make the fever go away. “Just tired.”
Carlos didn’t look convinced.
Practice continued, but Mei only got worse. His movements were sluggish, his reactions delayed. Every time he pitched, he felt like he was using twice the usual effort just to get the ball where he wanted it. His mind felt foggy, and the world spun a little every time he blinked.
Carlos had seen enough.
While Mei was distracted, Carlos pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He hesitated for only a second before pressing call.
The phone rang twice before a familiar, cocky voice answered.
“Yo, Carlos. What’s up?”
Carlos glanced toward Mei, making sure he wasn’t paying attention before lowering his voice.
“Narumiya’s sick.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end. Then, Kazuya’s voice sharpened.
“What?”
“He’s trying to act like he’s fine, but I’m telling you, he’s burning up,” Carlos muttered. “His pitches are off, he’s barely talking—he looks like he’s about to drop.”
Kazuya didn’t respond immediately, but Carlos could hear the way his breath hitched.
“…Thanks, Carlos.”
Then, the line went dead.
Carlos smirked to himself and pocketed his phone. If Narumiya was going to be a stubborn idiot, then someone had to step in. Meanwhile, over at Seidou, Kazuya clenched his phone in his hand, his other hand balling into a fist at his side. He let out a slow breath, forcing himself to stay calm even though his heart was already racing.
Mei was sick.
Mei was sick, and he hadn’t told him.
Kazuya knew exactly why. Mei thought he wouldn’t come. That he would put practice first. That he wouldn’t choose him.
What an idiot.
Kazuya shoved his phone into his pocket and turned on his heel, heading straight for his coach.
“Coach.” His voice was serious, more serious than usual. “I have something important to take care of. I need to go.”
Coach Kataoka raised an eyebrow, clearly not used to Kazuya asking to leave practice. “What’s going on?”
Kazuya didn’t hesitate.
“Mei’s sick.”
Something in his tone must have told Kataoka that arguing was useless. After a moment, the coach sighed. “Don’t make this a habit, Miyuki.”
Kazuya nodded. “I won’t.”
And with that, he turned and ran.
Kazuya barely stopped to grab his bag before sprinting out of Seidou’s gates. His heart was pounding, but not from the exertion—it was the growing concern gnawing at his chest, the irritation bubbling beneath his skin.
Mei was sick. Really sick, if Carlos had bothered to call him. And the idiot hadn’t said a word.
Kazuya knew Mei was stubborn. Knew he had a bad habit of pushing himself past his limits. But this? This was just reckless.
“Dumbass,” Kazuya muttered under his breath as he reached the train station. He slammed his commuter card against the scanner and rushed through the gate, barely paying attention to the people around him.
The train to Inashiro was already pulling into the station. Kazuya quickly stepped inside, weaving through the crowd to find an empty seat near the window. The doors slid shut behind him with a chime, and the train lurched forward.
He exhaled sharply, leaning back against the seat. His leg bounced restlessly. The ride was long, 2 hours give or take and it felt like an eternity.
He couldn’t stop picturing Mei.
The way he must have been swaying on his feet, jaw clenched in stubbornness. The way his pale skin would have flushed from the fever, his body burning up while he still insisted on practicing.
Kazuya ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Idiot.”
He pulled out his phone, tapping out a quick message.
Mei. I’m coming over.
No response.
He scowled. Of course the idiot wouldn’t answer. He was probably too exhausted, maybe even asleep.
The thought made Kazuya’s grip tighten on his phone.
He didn’t like the idea of Mei being alone like that. Sure, Carlos and the others were probably looking after him in their own way, but Kazuya should have been there. Mei was his idiot boyfriend, and he shouldn’t have had to rely on someone else to tell him when he was sick.
The train continued down the tracks, city buildings flashing past the window. Kazuya could hear the faint murmurs of conversations around him, but his mind was too preoccupied to care.
Did he eat anything? Probably not.
Did he drink enough water? Also unlikely.
Is he just lying in bed, miserable, because he didn’t want to tell me?
Yeah. That sounded exactly like Mei.
Kazuya sighed, rubbing his temple.
He wasn’t sure if he was more worried or pissed off. Maybe both.
The train announcer’s voice crackled through the speakers, calling out the next stop. Kazuya straightened in his seat, watching the city blur past, willing the train to go faster.
Just hold on, Mei. I’m coming.
The moment the train doors slid open, Kazuya was off. He weaved through the crowd, barely sparing a glance at the people around him. The only thing on his mind was Mei.
He knew the way to Inashiro like the back of his hand. How could he not? He had been visiting Mei since they were kids, back when their rivalry was nothing more than two brats bickering over who could throw farther or catch better.
But this wasn’t a casual visit.
Kazuya picked up his pace, pushing forward as the cold evening air bit at his skin. The streets were quieter this time of day, students either in club activities or already home. His footsteps echoed as he reached the familiar school gates.
He didn’t even hesitate sliding past security with the ease of someone who had done this before, he headed straight for the dorms. Carlos had probably left the door unlocked for him—sneaky bastard—but Kazuya didn’t mind. He was grateful, really.
And sure enough, when he reached the building, the door clicked open with a slight push.
Good man, Carlos.
Kazuya stepped inside, taking quick strides down the hallway. He knew exactly which room Mei’s was, having been there before more times than he could count. He didn’t even bother knocking.
The door swung open.
And there was Mei.
Curled up in bed, face flushed with fever, his normally bright eyes dulled and unfocused. His hair was messier than usual, sticking to his forehead with sweat. He blinked blearily at Kazuya, clearly disoriented.
Kazuya stared
Mei stared back.
Then—
“What the hell are you doing here?!” Mei croaked, voice rough and hoarse.
Kazuya scoffed, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “Nice to see you too, dumbass.”
Mei groaned, trying to sit up, but Kazuya was faster. He was at Mei’s bedside in seconds, pushing him back down with a firm hand on his shoulder.
“You look like absolute shit,” Kazuya said bluntly, scanning Mei’s exhausted face. His frown deepened. “And you thought you could hide this from me?”
Mei clicked his tongue, averting his gaze. “I knew you wouldn’t come anyway. You had practice.”
Kazuya’s jaw tightened. "That’s what you think of me? Yeah, well, guess what? I’m here.” His voice was sharp, but underneath it was something softer. “You really thought I’d stay at practice when you’re like this?”
Mei didn’t answer.
Because he had thought that.
Kazuya sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before looking at him again. “Mei.”
Mei grumbled something under his breath.
“What?”
“…Told Carlos not to call you.”
Kazuya snorted. “Good thing he ignores you as much as I do.” Mei huffed, crossing his arms weakly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Oh, shut up,” Kazuya shot back, rolling his eyes. “You’re stuck with me now, like it or not.”
Mei scowled, clearly too weak to argue further. Kazuya could tell he was exhausted, his body sagging against the pillows despite his stubborn act.
Kazuya sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his jacket. “Have you eaten anything?”
Mei hesitated.
Kazuya’s eye twitched. “Mei.”
“…Not hungry.”
Kazuya pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering curses under his breath. “You are literally the most frustrating person on the planet.”
Mei just smirked weakly. “And yet, you love me.”
Kazuya rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitched. “Unfortunately.”
Mei let out a breathy chuckle, but it quickly turned into a cough. His body trembled slightly, and Kazuya immediately reached for him, rubbing slow circles on his back.
“Alright, enough talking. You need rest.”
Mei grumbled something, but he didn’t resist when Kazuya gently pushed him back onto the bed. His feverish eyes fluttered shut almost immediately, exhaustion finally overtaking him.
Kazuya exhaled, watching him for a moment. Then, he stood and moved to grab a damp towel from the bathroom, placing it on Mei’s forehead to help cool him down.
As he adjusted the blanket over Mei’s shoulders, he muttered softly, “You’re lucky I like you, you dumbass.”
Mei didn’t respond—he was already asleep.
Kazuya shook his head and pulled out his phone, typing a quick message to Carlos.
I’ve got him. Thanks for calling me.
Carlos responded almost immediately.
Yeah, yeah. Just take care of him. He’s a pain in the ass when he’s sick.
Kazuya smirked.
Yeah. But he was his pain in the ass.
Kazuya settled himself into Mei’s room, fully prepared to stay the night. Not that Mei had a choice—if Kazuya had dropped everything to come here, then he sure as hell wasn’t leaving until he was sure Mei wasn’t about to keel over.
The room was dimly lit, the only sound being Mei’s shallow breathing. His fever was still high, but at least he was sleeping now. His face, usually filled with sharp smirks and over-the-top expressions, was slack with exhaustion. Kazuya could see how pale he was even under the warm light.
Sighing, he adjusted the damp towel on Mei’s forehead before leaning back in his chair. He had already rummaged through Mei’s mini fridge earlier, scowling at the absolute lack of anything remotely nutritious. Carlos had promised to bring something up later, but until then, Kazuya just had to make sure Mei didn’t get any worse.
Minutes passed. Then an hour.
Mei stirred at some point, groaning softly as his fever-addled mind started waking up. His eyebrows scrunched together, and Kazuya could tell he was disoriented.
“…Kazuya?” His voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse and rough.
Kazuya sat up immediately. “Yeah, I’m here.”
Mei blinked sluggishly at him before frowning. “Still?”
Kazuya let out an amused huff. “What, did you think I was just gonna check in and leave?” He crossed his arms. “You really don’t know me at all, huh?”
Mei exhaled through his nose, looking too tired to argue.
“…Feels weird.”
“What does?”
“You… sitting there.” His voice was soft, almost sleepy. “Like you’re watching over me or something.”
Kazuya raised an eyebrow. “That’s because I am.”
Mei groaned dramatically, rolling onto his side. “Gross.”
Kazuya smirked, leaning forward to press the back of his hand against Mei’s forehead. “Your fever’s still high,” he murmured, ignoring Mei’s earlier complaint. “You need to drink something.”
Mei barely cracked an eye open. “Don’t wanna.”
Kazuya’s eye twitched. “Do you want me to force you?”
Mei huffed but didn’t protest when Kazuya reached for the water bottle on the nightstand, uncapping it and holding it out.
Grumbling, Mei slowly sat up, swaying a little before Kazuya steadied him with a hand on his back. He took a few sips, grimacing, then flopped back onto the bed.
Kazuya rolled his eyes. “Drama queen.”
Mei didn’t reply, already sinking back into sleep. Kazuya sighed and tugged the blanket higher over his shoulders, watching as Mei’s breathing evened out.
He really was something else. Stubborn to a fault. Too proud to ask for help. But at the end of the day, Mei was his idiot, and Kazuya would deal with all of his nonsense if it meant making sure he was okay.
As he leaned back into his chair, arms crossed, Kazuya muttered, “You’re gonna owe me for this, Mei.”
Mei, half-asleep, just let out a soft snore.
Kazuya smirked.
Yeah. He’d be fine.
The night passed in slow, quiet moments. Kazuya didn’t sleep much—not that he had planned to. Every so often, he checked Mei’s temperature, made sure he wasn’t overheating, and forced him to drink a few more sips of water whenever he stirred awake. Carlos had texted him at some point.
Everything good?
Kazuya smirked at the message before responding.
Yeah. He’s still an idiot, though.
Carlos’ reply came fast.
Tell me something I don’t know.
Kazuya chuckled under his breath, setting his phone down. Mei shifted in bed, brows furrowing slightly before his eyes cracked open.
“…You’re still here?” His voice was quiet, still rough with fever.
Kazuya arched an eyebrow. “Wow. Unbelievable. I skip practice, take the train here, and stay by your bedside, and this is the greeting I get?” He scoffed. “At least pretend to be grateful.” Mei rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite to it. “…Didn’t think you’d actually come.”
Kazuya frowned. “That’s what pisses me off the most. What part of ‘we’re dating’ makes you think I wouldn’t show up when you’re sick?”
Mei blinked at him sleepily, his fever-dazed brain taking longer to process the words. “You… had practice.”
Kazuya scoffed. “Yeah, and I’ll have practice tomorrow, and the day after that. But you? You’re only this sick right now. So obviously, this is more important.”
Mei stared at him, looking oddly thoughtful despite his drowsiness. Then, after a long pause, he mumbled, “…Idiot.” Kazuya rolled his eyes. “You are literally the last person on this planet who gets to say that to me.”
Mei let out a weak laugh before his expression softened. "Thanks.”
Kazuya raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”
Mei closed his eyes again, voice barely above a whisper. “For coming.”
Kazuya stilled for a moment. Then, he exhaled, shaking his head with a small smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Just sleep, Mei.”
Mei didn’t respond, already drifting back into slumber.
Kazuya leaned back in his chair, watching the slow rise and fall of Mei’s breathing. His fever had gone down a little, but he still looked exhausted.
Sneaky bastard, Kazuya thought fondly. Making me all soft when you’re too sick to remember it later.
But honestly?
He didn’t mind.
Kazuya settled in, resting his chin on his palm. He’d stay as long as Mei needed him to.
After all, Mei might be the ace of Inashiro, but to Kazuya—he was just Mei.
And Kazuya wasn’t going anywhere.
A few days later, Mei was finally back to normal—meaning he was back to being an insufferable little shit.
Kazuya regretted everything.
“You really skipped practice just for me?” Mei drawled, leaning back against the fence of Inashiro’s bullpen with a smug grin. “Man, I must be special.”
Kazuya, standing beside him with his arms crossed, sighed heavily. “Here we go…”
“I mean, I always knew you couldn’t resist me, but skipping practice? Captain Miyuki Kazuya skipping out on his precious Seidou training?” Mei let out an exaggerated gasp, placing a hand over his heart. “Unbelievable. Never thought I’d see the day.”
Kazuya side-eyed him, unimpressed. “You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?”
Mei grinned—no, he smirked, eyes practically gleaming with mischief.
“Nope.” Kazuya groaned, running a hand down his face. “Yeah. Figured.”
Mei cackled, nudging him with his elbow. “Aw, come on. You love it.”
Kazuya gave him a long, deadpan stare.
“…You’re so lucky I like you.”
Mei grinned wider. “I know.”
Kazuya sighed. He really had created a monster.
But… looking at Mei now, completely back to his usual self—annoying, cocky, and full of energy—he figured it was worth it.
Even if he’d have to hear about this for the rest of his life.