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miyuki’s been a no-show at practice lately, and youichi gets it, he really does, so it shouldn’t bother him at all except for the fact that it really, really does. it only takes a single morning’s practice sans miyuki for youichi to realise the only thing more annoying than miyuki hauling ass to the dugout to bother everyone from the sidelines is miyuki not hauling himself anywhere at all, which doesn’t affect the team as a whole but very much affects youichi in particular.
that idiot, youichi seethes, smoothly avoiding kijima’s tag as he slides onto second, who the hell does he think he’s helping, shutting everyone else out? actually, that’s not quite true. youichi knows it isn’t, but all that does is irritate him more. the rest of morning practice passes in a blur of adrenaline and the sweet ache of physical exertion, youichi’s worries temporarily replaced with more immediate concerns, like: stopping sawamura from deafening everyone from the mound; tightening up his double plays with haruichi; ignoring the way muscle memory moves quicker than even youichi’s reflexes can, and certainly faster than ono can throw, causing a curious infield configuration where youichi runs to cover second as ono makes a fielder’s choice to grab the out at first instead.
he doesn’t think anyone notices except maybe haruichi, or nabe, who makes eye contact with him from the dugout, and it isn’t an error but youichi ducks his head anyway, changing gears as he exhales, nothing i can do about it now, move on, keep going. and he does, but something nags at him in a small, insistent corner of his head that doesn’t quite go away when youichi walks off the field after practice finishes.
barely managing to make his seat before homeroom starts, youichi ignores the look sensei shoots him from the front of the classroom in favour of suddenly leaning backwards, seat tipping back to rest on both hind legs. arms crossed behind his head, youichi smiles, knowing full well miyuki’s classroom posture is even shittier than his own, hunched forward to avoid answering questions but also to hiss all sorts of incredibly irrelevant commentary at the back of youichi’s head.
so when miyuki jerks back to avoid youichi’s head swooping straight for his face with a not-quite-aborted grunt, youichi doesn’t bother hiding his laugh at all, a three-note-wheeze earning him more than just a look from sensei’s desk. he keeps his grin the whole way through, though, which doesn’t help his case very much but reminds him of the worrying in his head settling into something well-worn and familiar instead, resting light and easy in his ribs.
hilariously, sensei keeps miyuki back with him after class, incorrectly (correctly?) assuming him as the source for youichi’s earlier outburst. miyuki pouts, and youichi kind of wants to poke his cheek and pull even more entertaining expressions while he’s at it, but then miyuki’d seek vengeance and they’d never get out of class for lunch.
all things considered, it’s an absolutely ordinary start to an absolutely ordinary day, and youichi’s glad for it. after all, ever since he came to seidou, youichi’s gotten used to the idea of absolutely ordinary as the best kind of day there is.
almost without realising, youichi’s nights found themselves following an immaculately upheld schedule. before, youichi thought this meant extra practice even after their extra evening practice, hitting the batting cages or the back of the fields for a bit, miyuki coming along for a place where they can push themselves just a little further, crossing the small but significant border between exhaustion and the kind of bone-deep satisfaction that follows a body taken to its limits only to have those limits grow, however stumbling, each and every day.
except, youichi wonders if maybe it’s actually the other way around: that evening, youichi walks out of the indoor practice building, miyuki falling into step beside him, just like always.
(youichi chooses to ignore the part where miyuki actually spent his time inside bullying the first year pitchers out of excessive practice for the night. or the part where youichi helped him along because, well, who else was gonna play impulse control otherwise? also, it was pretty funny to watch.)
— but where usually this means stopping by the vending machines before coming back to their bats one last time for the night, tonight finds them stopping by the vending machines and staying there. feeding some coins into the machine, miyuki throws youichi a pocari sweat before grabbing a coffee for himself. youichi twists the cap off the bottle and practically inhales half the bottle in a single swallow. then he frowns, screwing the cap back on so he can swing the bottle at miyuki, petulantly, accusingly.
“if you’re gonna be drinking having coffee this late at night, you better be prepared for the consequences.”
“such as…?” miyuki tilts his head, treating youichi to the curve to miyuki’s neck, the ends of his hair curled against it with sweat even though miyuki hasn’t even been practicing.
“staying up all night and wallowing about it over breakfast tomorrow,” youichi says, but really he means: rest the fuck up already, geez. and when miyuki’s mouth ticks upwards youichi frowns harder, because a) he knows miyuki knows what he really meant, and b) he’s going to ignore it anyway, a fact made even worse by c) attempting to dance around what he’s actually going to spend the time awake doing, like youichi can’t already guess.
he lets miyuki try it anyway.
“i don’t know about wallowing,” miyuki says cheerfully, “but i’ve got some assignments that could use doing not the night before they’re due, don’t you think?”
youichi feels a vein pop on his forehead.
“don’t you even start that shit on me. we both know neither of us are going anywhere near our history until nabe-chan steps us through it.”
miyuki arches an eyebrow. “for you, maybe. i’ve already levelled up into bigger, better grades.” raising his coffee to youichi, miyuki’s about to take a sip but youichi snatches it off and away from him, throwing it away before throwing an arm around miyuki — he’s not careless enough to try a headlock on him yet — to pull him back towards the dorms.
“…or not,” miyuki mumbles, but he doesn’t try shaking youichi off either. “so the barely-passers coast together through academic mediocrity once more, huh.”
“you,” youichi says over the top of him, “are going to climb into bed and sleep, god, please just go the fuck to sleep.” still, he walks into miyuki’s dorm room after miyuki does, refraining from physically tucking miyuki into bed but perching at the edge of his bed anyway because why the hell should he stand up and hover?
“i gotta say, kuramochi, i’m kinda touched,” miyuki pipes up from the blankets. there’s an eye mask next to his phone on the pillow, but miyuki doesn’t reach for either. miyuki sighs, half laugh, half heavy burst of breath, and youichi feels lightheaded and alert at the same time.
“so? why the after-hours visit?” miyuki continues. “gonna forcibly nurse me back to health? lull me to sleep with a bedtime story?”
“ha, ha.” it’s not a confirmation or rejection, an in-between answer miyuki doesn’t call him out on.
“lame. some cheapskate you are.” but miyuki shuffles over to the side of his bed and doesn’t comment when youichi flops into the free space he leaves. youichi doesn’t remember closing his eyes but he does remember miyuki’s breathing easing out into something slow and soothing and the next time youichi opens his eyes it’s too dark to see anything so youichi just slips back into sleep, wondering just who was lulling who to sleep after all.
(he wakes up with a crick in his neck and miyuki drooling into his shoulder, and youichi blames it entirely on the early hour when all he can summon up in response is to fix the blankets around miyuki when he gets up to head to practice.)
youichi gets to the classroom first that morning, which means he gets to see miyuki stroll in looking fresh as a sunflower in summertime. he’s already turning in his seat so he can talk to miyuki from the desk behind him but miyuki doesn’t quite make it there, stopping in front of youichi’s desk instead. youichi looks up at him, blinking.
“huh?”
“well, good morning to you too — i see you slept well.”
this, at least, youichi can respond to: “yeah, and i see you slept too well. what time did you get up?”
miyuki’s practically preening when he says, “oh, about twenty minutes ago.” he doesn’t mention youichi staying over the night before, so youichi doesn’t either. not like he would anyway. hands in his pockets, miyuki leans against the side of youichi’s desk, not saying anything. gaze switching from miyuki’s back to the window to miyuki again, youichi slumps forward, elbows on his desk, cheek resting on his hand. he’s vaguely aware of their classmates pointing at them — you’ll point when we argue and you’ll point when we don’t, fine, whatever — but mostly he’s aware of how incredibly not awkward it is, just staying together.
youichi hums, considers saying something now that he’s got miyuki listening so obviously, but he finds that he doesn’t really want to. there’s time enough later to nag him about his sleeping habits or coming back to the team already, we’re not doing any of this without you, captain. but for now he lets his head tip from his hand into the small of miyuki’s back. miyuki doesn’t startle, just leans back the slightest bit so the angle’s not so awkward on youichi’s neck.
“you still owe me a coffee, you know,” miyuki says, not quite apropos of nothing but superficial enough youichi can tell he’s not really looking for a response. so what, then?
let’s stay like this a while longer.
“come watch morning practice again, then.”
“so that’s a yes?” he feels more than sees miyuki tilt his head back to glance at youichi. youichi shrugs, smiles into the back of miyuki’s shirt where miyuki won’t be able to see, yet.
“that’s a maybe. come watch morning practice anyway.”
“persuasive,” miyuki hums. “dunno how i can say no to that: nagging captain and no caffeine whatsoever. it’s like you’re telling me not to come back at all.” youichi knows miyuki doesn’t mean it as a joke but it doesn’t make it any less funny. he rubs his head into miyuki’s shirt, the closest he’s getting to a headbutt without moving.
“we can talk about nagging captains once we do, in fact, have ours back on the field.”
nobody’s going to leave you behind.
“wouldn’t that be something,” miyuki murmurs, reaching back to tap youichi’s shoulder but getting youichi’s neck instead, the bell ringing for start of homeroom as youichi leans back and miyuki heads back to his desk. opening his eyes just before miyuki leaves, youichi sees that miyuki didn’t miss at all, had been looking right at youichi the whole time. and youichi’s neck warms, lapping out in waves over his ears, his cheeks, his neck.
when miyuki sits down he reaches a hand to rub at the back of his neck, like maybe he feels just a little warm, too. it’s a start, youichi thinks, settling further into his seat as sensei calls out announcements, starting the day.