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Kazuya arrived at the train station a few minutes early and found an out-of-the-way spot against the wall to wait for Eijun’s train to arrive. He hadn’t seen Eijun for several months, not since being drafted by Saitama and moved to Tokorozawa. It wasn’t that far away, but he’d been overwhelmed with the new training regimens, with coming to terms with the realization that on the professional level he no longer possessed the edge over other players that he’d always enjoyed. It fired him up—made him want to try even harder—but it was still an adjustment. Besides, Eijun was busy too, wrapped up in his third year at Seidou.
But they’d finally found a weekend when Eijun could visit him. Kazuya had offered to come down to Seidou, but Eijun texted back that he wanted to see Kazuya’s new place. And this way I’ll have you all to myself, senpai! he added.
Kazuya hadn’t deleted that particular text yet.
The train pulled into the station, and Kazuya spotted Eijun as he came through the doors. He took the few seconds he had before Eijun saw him to observe and mark the changes—bulkier shoulders—had Eijun grown a little taller? Or was he thinking of Eijun as the first year pitcher, loud, obnoxious, all rough edges and unlimited potential? Not having seen Eijun in a while, it struck him anew how much more mature he was becoming, and he felt a little pang of loss for the hyper, scrappy kouhai of years past.
Here we go, Kazuya thought, bracing himself as Eijun turned in his direction.
“MIYUKI KAZUYA!!!”
Everyone else on the platform startled, turning to stare, and Kazuya fought down a blush as Eijun charged toward him, shouting apologies as he pushed past hapless passengers. Then Eijun was there, flinging his arms around his neck, leaping into a hug, and Kazuya staggered back, trying to keep his balance.
“Calm down,” he muttered, patting Eijun’s shoulder. “You’re making a scene.”
“I missed you too, Miyuki-senpai,” Eijun said, grinning.
*
“Want to go see a movie?” Kazuya asked as they walked down the street. “Maybe you’re hungry? Or we could go to the ruins of Takino Castle—doesn’t that sound like fun?”
He smothered his grin at Eijun’s outraged expression.
“Miyuki, you know that’s not what I want to do!” Eijun exclaimed.
“No?” Kazuya said, feigning ignorance. Then he leaned closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Are you that anxious to get in bed together?”
Eijun went red, spluttering. “I—I—you’re a horrible person, Miyuki!”
Kazuya pouted. “But Eijun, I thought you cared for me.”
“I do—I meant—ah!” Eijun threw his head back, groaning in frustration. “You need to catch my pitches, dammit! You need to catch for me, Miyuki-senpai!”
Kazuya pulled his mitt out of his bag and waved it in front of Eijun’s nose.
Eijun wrested it from him and whacked him on the head with it, Kazuya too doubled over with laughter to stop him.
He knew Eijun would have liked to go to the Seibu Dome, would have stared in awe at the field, would have fallen into formal Japanese every time they met one of Kazuya’s fellow players. But something in him shrank away from the thought of showing up there with his boyfriend—his boyfriend who was still in high school, no less. No one on Saitama knew about him and Eijun, of course. And Kazuya was afraid that even if he said they were friends, someone would realize, would see the way they looked at each other and put it together.
He wasn’t exactly sure what would happen then, but he doubted it would be anything good.
Besides, he also didn’t really want Eijun to see the way the other players treated him. Kazuya was a rookie, subject to all the teasing that came with that status. But Eijun had only ever known him as his senpai, as someone to be respected, however grudgingly. He didn’t want to lose that and become something less in Eijun’s eyes.
So they ended up at a local park instead, Kazuya crouched in the dirt, holding up his mitt. Give me your best one, right here.
The control, the speed—so much better, just in the few months Kazuya had been away. Pride warred with resentment in his heart. Resentment because it seemed wrong that Eijun could go on improving and growing without Kazuya there to guide him.
“Nice pitch,” he called out, throwing it back. Eijun beamed, basking in the praise.
They could have kept going for hours, but Kazuya finally called a halt to it, reminding Eijun he had practice on Monday and shouldn’t tire himself out.
He took Eijun back to his apartment and cooked dinner while Eijun poked around curiously and then stationed himself at Kazuya’s shoulder, chattering on about everything that had happened at Seidou since Kazuya left—the new first year sharing the room with him and Asada, how Kanemaru was doing as captain, the Coach’s new pair of sunglasses that made Rei-chan almost walk into a batting machine the first time she saw them. Kazuya listened intently because it was still his team and always would be.
“And then Furuya came on in the eighth inning,” Eijun said, still going strong as they sat down to eat. “I could have kept pitching, but Coach said—whoa! This is so good, Miyuki! I didn’t know you could cook like this.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Kazuya replied. “And close your mouth when you’re chewing. Don’t be gross.”
“So strict!”
“It’s basic table manners.”
Eijun crammed another bite in his mouth. “I’ll want seconds—and thirds!—so I hope you made lots.”
“Don’t forget your three bowls of rice.”
“That’s right! And I will wash the dishes, Miyuki-senpai. Sawamura Eijun will be an excellent guest. You will have no cause to complain!”
“You’re not a guest,” Kazuya said, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.
Eijun blinked, confused.
Kazuya stared down at his food, trying to loosen the tense muscles in his jaw. “You don’t call someone’s boyfriend their guest, idiot.”
He heard Eijun suck in a breath.
“I wasn’t sure,” Eijun said. “If we still were. You never said when you…when you left.”
Kazuya sighed, pushing up his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t think I had to.”
“Words,” Eijun said solemnly. “You have to use your words, Miyuki Kazuya!”
Kazuya glared at him, but it lacked any heat. It was easy to forget Eijun could be insecure too.
*
Eijun did the dishes as promised, humming and splashing water all over the counter. Kazuya watched the shift of muscles under his t-shirt and thought about the box of condoms and bottle of lube he had bought two days ago.
They had kissed some at Seidou, and there was a bit of mutual groping and frottage in the claustrophobic confines of bathroom stalls, but the lack of privacy in the dorm had put a halt to any further explorations.
He put the (small) container of leftovers in the fridge and walked up behind Eijun. “Hey,” he said, and then held his breath as he slipped his arms around Eijun’s chest.
Eijun stilled, all of that rampant energy that usually crackled around him contained for a few moments. He breathed out and relaxed back against Kazuya, hands still buried in the soapy water. Kazuya kissed his temple.
A heartbeat of silence, and then Eijun burst into motion, whirling around and flinging himself into a hug, soap suds flying into the air. “I missed you,” he said in a choked voice, pressing his face into Kazuya’s neck, his wet hands turning the back of Kazuya’s t-shirt warm and damp.
“Oh?” Kazuya smiled, unable to sound anything but pleased and fond.
Eijun nodded, squeezing tighter. “Haruichi kept asking what was wrong, and I didn’t know what to say because we never told anyone about us. And Furuya even said I was pitching well in our last game. It was so weird!”
It must have been bad for Furuya to have conceded as much in an attempt to cheer up Eijun. “Silly—you don’t have to be sad,” Kazuya told him, prying one arm free so he could stroke the soft hair at Eijun’s nape and rub soothing circles on his back. “It’s not like we’re thousands of miles away. And who was it who sent me hundreds of text messages every day?”
Not hundreds, really, but at least ten, and how he looked forward to them, to hearing the little details about Eijun’s day, along with whatever random jokes and pictures Eijun got it into his head to send.
“But it’s not the same,” Eijun said, sniffing back tears.
“No, but this isn’t all bad, is it? Just the two of us.”
“Pervert,” Eijun muttered, but he burrowed closer. “I knew you were thinking about that.”
Kazuya bopped him on the head. “I meant more than just sex. It’s been nice, having you to myself.”
“You’re a greedy, awful person,” Eijun said, drawing back far enough to plant a big kiss on Kazuya’s mouth. Then he promptly hid his face in Kazuya’s neck again. “But…what about…um, sex?”
“I want it if you do.” He wasn’t going to pressure Eijun, and maybe they should wait until Eijun had graduated at least, but…well, he wanted it too much to say no if Eijun was eager for it as well.
Eijun squirmed around a little. “I do,” he whispered.
“Are you going to be shy?” Kazuya teased. “I’ve seen you naked a lot in the bath, remember?”
“That was different! Ugh—you’re so impossible. And—” Eijun drew away completely this time and leveled a finger at Kazuya. “You cut your hair and didn’t tell me!”
Kazuya blinked. He had trimmed his hair shorter. It seemed more professional. But it had never occurred to him that he needed to inform Eijun of that fact.
Eijun maintained his stern expression. “If I’m your boyfriend you have to tell me these things. I want to know everything.”
“I can’t fit ‘everything’ into a text message.”
“Then call me, and we can talk.” Eijun poked him in the chest. “But no phone sex! Asada would probably faint if he overheard us.”
“I wasn’t going to suggest it,” Kazuya protested.
Eijun narrowed his eyes. “Hmmph—I know you and your plots, senpai.”
“Don’t make me sound like an evil mastermind, jeez.” He grabbed Eijun’s shoulders and turned him around toward the sink. “And you still have dishes to do.”
Eijun grumbled and splashed more water around. Kazuya propped his hip against the counter, crossing his arms and watching him. “You missed a spot,” he said, leaning over to point at a bowl and landing a quick kiss on Eijun’s cheek while he was at it.
“I did not!” Eijun said, blushing and scrubbing harder.
“Hahaha—what are you going to be like later if just a kiss makes you so embarrassed?”
Eijun glared and flicked water at him, spattering it all over his glasses. “You weren’t like this before,” he muttered as Kazuya cleaned his glasses on his shirt.
“Well, no.” He slid his glasses on, trying to read Eijun’s expression. “We couldn’t, could we?”
Eijun slowly shook his head. “No, but…I like it.”
In this space they could touch each other whenever they wanted, with no worries about getting caught or being too affectionate.
“Yeah.” He ruffled Eijun’s hair. “There’s ice cream for after.” He wasn’t a big fan of ice cream, but he knew Eijun liked it.
“After?”
He smirked. “Well, I assume we’ll be working up an appetite.”
Eijun went red again.
*
He hadn’t opened the blinds in his bedroom that day, and so it felt quiet and drowsy in there, with the dim light. Eijun bounded through the doorway, stopped, and then turned around and latched onto Kazuya.
“Be gentle with me, Miyuki-senpai!” he exclaimed.
“I’m not going to throw you on the bed and ravish you,” Kazuya said, trying to break free from Eijun’s vice-like grip. “What kind of porn did Kuramochi get you into, anyway?”
“Well—”
“No, don’t tell me. I don’t actually want to know. But just remember—I’ve never done this before either.”
“Ohhhh, Miyuki is nervous too!” Eijun patted him on the head, and Kazuya ducked away, frowning. “Don’t worry—I made sure to look at some websites so I’d be prepared,” Eijun continued. “I wrote them down in my baseball notebook. Do you want to see them?”
“Your baseball notebook?” Kazuya repeated, appalled.
“I’ll erase them before I turn it into the Coach.”
“You better.”
“I will!”
Kazuya sighed. He’d forgotten what wrangling Eijun was like. “I read some stuff too. And if worse comes to worst, we can always call Chris-senpai for advice, I suppose,” he added airily.
Eijun gaped. “Tell—what—I—”
“Hahahaha—your face,” Kazuya snickered.
“That wasn’t nice Miyuki Kazuya.” Eijun glared at him, steam practically coming out of his ears. “We can never tell Chris-senpai the details.”
Kazuya’s laughter faded. “What about in general?” he asked, fixing his eyes on a spot on the wall.
“You mean tell him about us?”
Kazyua nodded.
Eijun was silent for a moment and then said softly, “I’d like to. He wouldn’t think it was bad. Would he?”
Surely not. Surely, out of everyone, Chris would accept them. But—“You can never tell, with people.”
A pause, and then Eijun’s arms wrapped around him, enfolding him in a hug. “Chris-senpai would never stop loving us,” he whispered.
Kazuya swallowed back the painful lump in his throat, leaning against Eijun.
“And I like the way your hair looks,” Eijun added, his fingers stroking, petting. “I’m going to take a picture of you and set it as the background on my phone.”
“You are not,” Kazuya said, but he didn’t pull away.
“I am. It’s what boyfriends should do,” Eijun declared with all the confidence of a shoujo manga enthusiast. “All I’ve had until now have been photos of you from magazines.”
At least Kuramochi won’t be around to see it. He’d never hear the end of it otherwise. Although if they started telling people—he would want to tell Kuramochi too. He wondered, sometimes, if Kuramochi had known, back at Seidou
“Kiss me again,” Eijun said, and Kazuya heard, Catch for me, and felt it all slide together—hot sun and the smell of leather, the muted noise of traffic outside his apartment, fingers finding the seam on a ball, the same fingers brushing his skin, a powerful arm swinging down, now gentle around his shoulders.
*
They made it to the bed, their shirts in a tangled pile on the floor, and then stalled. Eijun lay under him, skin warm against Kazuya’s bare chest, his hands flapping around, confused about where to land.
“Relax—or we’ll never get anywhere,” Kazuya said, capturing one of his hands and holding it.
Eijun scrunched his eyes shut and then opened them on a deep breath. “I’ve thought about this—about you—a lot.”
“Did you have to go run around with your tire afterwards?”
“Maybe,” Eijun muttered, looking away.
But he didn’t want Eijun embarrassed—not here, not now. So he confessed, “I thought about you too.”
If they had been in a manga, little sparkles would have been dancing across Eijun’s eyes.
“But…” Eijun hesitated, unsure again.
“What? You can tell me.”
“What if I’m awful? It was bad enough when I didn’t pitch a good ball, but now I—I—”
He brought their clasped hands to rest against his chest. “You won’t be awful. We’re figuring this out together—like when we would take on a tough batter, yeah? As partners.”
Eijun’s face cleared. “Partners,” he repeated.
“Now try and get your mind off baseball, okay?”
“How do I do—”
“Like this,” Kazuya interrupted, sliding his fingers into Eijun’s hair and holding him still for a long kiss. Eijun opened up to him, hands wandering over Kazuya’s back, trying to pull him closer. So Kazuya rolled all the way on top of him, slotting his thigh between Eijun’s legs.
Eijun sucked in a desperate breath when Kazuya finally released his mouth and then moaned as Kazuya transferred his attentions to his neck. After drawing a few more gasps out of him, Kazuya sat up, trailing his hands down Eijun’s chest and rolling his hips so their erections pressed together for a moment.
“All right, Eijun,” he said. “There’s a runner on third and Yakushi’s Todoroki is up to bat. What pitch do you throw?”
Eijun blinked at him, mouth moving soundlessly.
Kazuya grinned. “Didn’t I tell you that would take your mind off baseball?”
“You—you—” Eijun grabbed a pillow and hit him over the head with it. Kazuya threw up his arms, laughing.
God, he’d missed Eijun so much. So very much.
*
It wasn’t until he slid a second finger inside him that Eijun started to look uncertain again and groped for Kazuya’s free hand to hold. He had Eijun on his back, knees up and thighs spread. Eijun’s cheeks were flushed, his hair mussed from shifting around on the pillows. His cock was still hard, even though he was pulling a weird face at the feeling of Kazuya’s fingers moving in and out.
“All right?” Kazuya asked, pausing.
“Yes,” Eijun said, although his voice shook a little. “Will you, um, touch me there too?”
“Here?” Kazuya stroked Eijun’s cock, crooking his fingers inside his ass at the same time.
“Y-yes—oh, fuck.” Eijun gasped quietly to himself for a few moments, one arm thrown over his face.
“Will you look at me?” Stroke, thrust. Stroke, thrust. “Please.”
Slowly, Eijun drew his arm away. He blinked, focusing those pretty eyes on Kazuya’s face.
“There we are.”
Eijun shuddered. Then—“I’m ready.” A deep breath. “I want you to d-do it.”
“Yes?” He wanted it too—had fantasized about what it would be like to be inside Eijun.
“But this isn’t the best position!” Eijun adopted a determined look. “I read I should be on my knees so I can control how…how deep…” He gulped, embarrassment overcoming him again.
“Then you get comfortable, and I’ll put on a condom, okay?”
“And more lube!” Eijun ordered, turning over. “And go slowly!”
“Yes, yes.” Kazuya hid a smile, rolling on the condom and stroking himself a few times, appreciating the sight in front of him. His own heart was beating wildly, though, and when he nudged his cock against Eijun’s hole, he almost lost his nerve. He didn’t want to hurt him—never, never wanted that.
But then he was inside, and oh, fuck, it was tight. He stopped, realized he was gripping Eijun’s hips hard enough to bruise, and loosened his fingers. “Is it—is it all right?”
“O-one moment!” Eijun’s voice trembled.
Worried, Kazuya started to withdraw, but Eijun yelped. “Stop! Just—just don’t move for a second.”
A few tense moments passed, and then the pressure on his cock eased slightly as Eijun relaxed a little. Letting out a soft, bitten-off groan, Eijun pushed back, taking Kazuya further.
“Fuck, Eijun,” Kazuya breathed. “You feel so good.”
Eijun jolted, sliding forwards with a little moan, and then back again, fucking himself slowly on Kazuya’s dick. But he was shaking, his arms trembling, and after a moment he gasped, “I can’t—you—you have to—please—I want—”
“Like this?” He pressed inside, grinding his hips against Eijun’s ass.
“Y-yes.” Eijun sounded like he was coming completely undone, and Kazuya wished he could see his face, could kiss him while they were fused together like this. “Just don’t thrust too much.”
So he kept it at a slow, steady grind, never withdrawing too much. That’s a good boy, getting used to taking my cock, he thought but didn’t say, flushing at the idea of ever voicing such thoughts aloud, even as it made a burst of lust tighten his muscles.
He didn’t last long, couldn’t stop his orgasm, gritting his teeth on a low groan as he shot off.
“Did you just come?” Eijun asked.
Kazuya swallowed, trying to find his voice. “Yeah…sorry. It felt, uh, really, really good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna pull out now, okay?”
Eijun moaned when he did and stayed there, head down, fingers curled in the sheets. Kazuya spread him open again and gently rubbed his thumb against his puffy hole, luxuriating in the memory of how it had felt to be inside there. He kept rubbing while he reached down with his other hand and started stroking Eijun into a full erection again.
He liked it when Eijun came, getting his fingers all messy. He cradled his cock for a little bit, still rubbing his hole, listening to the helpless, open-mouthed noises Eijun made. Then there was the cleaning up—getting rid of the condom, bringing a warm cloth so Eijun could wipe between his legs, and Eijun making a face and saying he had to go to the bathroom because all the lube was feeling weird inside him.
“How was it, though?” Kazuya asked when they were finally back in bed, Eijun curled into his chest, his arms circled around Kazuya with an air of finality, as though he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. “Are you okay?”
Eijun nodded. “I’m okay. I liked it…mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“Well, it was kind of overwhelming, at first. And I didn’t want you to move too much, but I think I’d really like it better if you did, once I’m more used to it, I mean.”
Kazuya parsed through this and realized Eijun was saying he wanted to get fucked again and was asking him to do it harder the next time. Too bad Eijun would probably be too sore for another round tonight because just thinking about it was getting him aroused again.
“Will we ever switch?” Eijun asked.
Surprise edged out the arousal. He’d never imagined that would be on the table. After all, he was the older one, and he’d always been the leader, as captain and as Eijun’s catcher. But this wasn’t baseball or Seidou. It didn’t have to be like that anymore.
“You’d like that?” he said slowly.
A vigorous nod.
“Okay, then.”
“Yes? Really?”
“You just said it felt good. Why shouldn’t I get to feel it too?”
“I’m gonna get hard again, thinking about it,” Eijun admitted, wriggling around on the sheets and stretching his legs out.
“Calm down. And don’t you dare go writing down ideas for new sex positions you want to try in your baseball notebook.”
“Senpai!”
“Still—keep your focus on pitching when you’re at Seidou, yeah?”
“You too—don’t daydream about me when you’re at practice.”
“As if I would.”
“I know when you’re lying, Miyuki Kazuya!”
*
“What’s it like?” Eijun asked later, when they were sitting side by side in the bed, each with a bowl of ice cream. “Playing with a professional team, I mean.”
Kazuya sucked on his spoon a moment, and then popped it out of his mouth. “Hard,” he admitted. He glanced at Eijun. “But quieter.”
“Quieter?” Eijun repeated, puzzled. Then comprehension dawned. “Miyuki Kazuya! You like that I’m energetic!!”
“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?”
“The team needs my spirit!”
Kazuya chuckled and knocked his shoulder against Eijun’s. “The pitcher I’m working with now never yells at me like that. He throws a mean fastball too.”
Eijun dug a furious spoon into his ice cream and shoved a big bite into his mouth.
“But it’s not the same as yours. There’s nothing like your changeup,” Kazuya added, and Eijun froze, turned to look at him, and Kazuya caught his mouth for a chilly, strawberry-flavored kiss.
Eijun sighed when it ended, reluctantly turning back to his ice cream. “Have you made any friends?” he asked after a moment.
Had he? Kazuya had gone out for drinks a few times with some of his teammates after practice. Toudou-san would tell him about his two-year old daughter and show off pictures. Aoyagi-kun had borrowed a book once. “Sure I have.”
Eijun made a disgruntled noise. “Try to be nice to them, Miyuki-senpai. And don’t criticize the older players too much.”
“Yes, mother.”
“I mean it!” Eijun turned the full force of his earnest gaze on him. “And call me if you get lonely. Or text!”
“I’m not lonely,” he said, but his throat was tight.
Eijun didn’t say anything more, but after a minute or so, he wrapped his arm around Kazuya, leaning them together.
*
He woke up in the middle of the night, overly warm, confused for a second about where he was and why Eijun was sprawled next to him, snoring. Then it came back to him, followed quickly by a sharp ache because Eijun had to go back to Seidou that afternoon. He would only get to have him here for a few more hours, and it wasn’t enough.
Rolling onto his side, he watched Eijun’s sleeping form, indistinct in the dark, blurry without his glasses. “When did you become so important to me?” he whispered.
He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment, if there had even been one. All he knew was that he couldn’t imagine not having Eijun’s loud, indomitable presence in his life. For a moment, he allowed himself the fantasy that Eijun would be drafted by Saitama, and they would play together as a battery again. Chances of that were slim to none, of course. But it would be nice.
*
“Kazuya…Kazuya.”
The next time he woke up, it was to Eijun calling his name. He could count on one hand the people who called him “Kazuya.” And now…He buried his face in the pillow to hide his smile.
“Kazuya, wake up.”
“I am awake.” He groped for his glasses and then got a good look at the clock. “It’s six a.m. On a Sunday.”
Eijun was sitting up with his arms around his knees. Now he pressed his face into his arms, mumbling, “I have to go back in a few hours, so I want to spend all the time we can together.”
Oh. Well, jeez, how could he complain about something as cute as that? He sat up too, wrapping his arms around Eijun and kissing his temple. “We could stay in bed a little longer, though. Doing things besides sleeping.”
“You’re corrupting me, senpai!” Eijun said, not sounding particularly displeased about that fact.
“What happened to ‘Kazuya’?”
Eijun blushed and muttered something inaudible.
“What was that?” Kazuya cupped a hand around his ear.
“I could still call you Miyu-Miyu, you know!” Eijun said, glaring.
“If you dare try…” Kazuya tickled his ribs, pinning Eijun down when he tried to escape, and ignoring Eijun’s pleas for mercy.
“You’re as bad as Kuramochi-senpai,” Eijun complained, breathless, when Kazuya finally relented.
“But Kuramochi never did this,” Kazuya said, sliding further down Eijun’s body until he was staring at Eijun’s crotch.
“K-Kazuya?” Eijun stuttered, shocked, as he tugged down Eijun’s shorts.
Kazuya’s first blow job wasn’t a resounding success—he scraped Eijun with his teeth once by accident, and Eijun yanked painfully on his hair just before his orgasm, getting come on Kazuya’s nose and glasses. But that was as good an excuse as any to take a shower together, where Kazuya could rub himself against Eijun’s thigh while kissing him and thumbing his nipples. It didn’t take much for Eijun to get hard again, and so they jerked each other off, hands slick with soap and water.
The shower was turning ice cold by the time they finished. He wrapped Eijun in a towel, claiming a few more kisses before Eijun’s stomach growled.
Kazuya ruffled his damp hair. “Guess we’d better have some breakfast.”
In the kitchen, Eijun made an eager beeline for the refrigerator before Kazuya grabbed the neck of his t-shirt, bringing him to a halt.
“What do you think you’re doing, hmmm?”
“You cooked last night, so I thought I could make us breakfast.”
“And when have you ever cooked anything besides cup noodles?”
Eijun wriggled in his grasp. “My mom and I make daifuku for New Year’s.”
“Well, I don’t want that for breakfast. You pour some juice, and I’ll cook some eggs and miso soup.”
“But, Kazuya—”
“I’ll teach you how to cook something the next time you come over, okay?”
Eijun beamed, perhaps as much at the promise that there would be a next time as the thought of cooking lessons.
*
Of course, they had to go play some catch again before it was time for Eijun to leave. On the way to the train station, Eijun dragged him into a shop and bought a phone charm shaped like a stag beetle, then demanded Kazuya’s cell phone.
“You aren’t sticking that thing on my phone,” Kazuya said.
Eijun kept his hand stubbornly extended, until Kazuya surrendered the phone with a huff.
“This way you’ll think of me every time you see it, and one day I’ll catch a beetle for you, Kazuya.”
“Hahaha—is that your idea of a romantic gesture?”
“Beetles are excellent pets!”
He pushed Eijun back out into the street. “I don’t want to look after a beetle.”
Eijun frowned, walking backwards so he could look at Kazuya. “But your apartment is too empty. You need something to keep you company when I’m not there.”
His heart gave a painful thump. “I’m hardly ever at the apartment.”
Eijun made a disbelieving noise, but then lapsed into a considering silence. “Of course,” he finally said, “it’s probably unwise to trust you with another living creature, senpai.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Kazuya demanded, offended.
Eijun poked his chest. “The only reason I’m safe with you is that I’m used to your horrible personality.”
Kazuya huffed. “You could get me a plant. I could keep a plant alive.”
“I don’t know…”
“You’re the one who brought up the idea in the first place,” he reminded Eijun. Looking down at his phone, he fiddled with the stag beetle charm. He should have something to give to Eijun. “Do you want a charm?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at the shops around them.
But Eijun shook his head. “Miyuki Kazuya can surprise me with a present next time!”
“Fine, fine. Now come on, or you’ll miss your train.” He propelled Eijun down the street, already resolved to buy Eijun one of his team’s shirts and mail it to him at Seidou.
*
He might have felt lonely when he returned to his apartment after seeing Eijun off, except Eijun immediately sent a barrage of texts and kept it up until he was back in the dorm.
Kazuya lay on his bed, where the sheets and pillows still smelled like Eijun, scrolling through them all again. Eijun’s last text was a string of hearts and happy emojis. He hovered over it awhile, and then sent back a heart, and then, a moment later, a second one.
“When did I get so ridiculous?” he asked the plastic stag beetle, which remained unhelpfully silent.
*
A week later he received a panicked email from Eijun.
Don’t hate me!!! I accidentally told Haruichi about us. He was asking me about this past weekend and I tried to come up with a story but it didn’t work. Haruichi is so crafty!! He always knows when I’m lying. He said he wasn’t surprised, whatever that means. And he promised not to tell anyone else!! So don’t worry, Kazuya! I know that we have to keep it quiet.
Kazuya stared at the message awhile and then typed: It’s okay. I don’t mind that Kominato knows.
Eijun sent back a string of relieved smiley faces and exclamation points.
*
Koshien. Seidou’s band played as the team came onto the field. Kazuya watched from the stands, almost as nervous and excited as when he had been the one out there playing. Somewhere in the crowd was Eijun’s family, probably Wakana, maybe a few other friends from his middle school. He was afraid they might meet after the game because he couldn’t leave without seeing Eijun, win or lose, but he didn’t know what Eijun would do. He’d be either wild with happiness or trying to hold back tears. In either scenario he might cling to Kazuya, and how could he possibly let Eijun go with only an impersonal pat on the shoulder or a quick hug? He rubbed sweaty hands along his pants.
Kuramochi sat next to him, eating fried chicken and commenting on the opposing team’s lineup. Then Eijun’s voice floated up to them, impossible to make out the words at this distance, but clearly him. Kazuya could see him gesticulating, saw Kanemaru slap a hand over his mouth.
“Good to see some things don’t change,” Kuramochi said, grinning.
“Eijun is—” He stopped, heart pounding.
“Annoying? Irrepressible? Impossible?”
“My boyfriend. We’re seeing each other.”
Silence. He couldn’t look at Kuramochi, could only brace himself for the sudden emptiness of the seat next to him.
Kuramochi didn’t move. “How long?” he asked at last.
His throat was dry, the words scraping painfully as he spoke. “A month or so before we graduated.”
A few moments later, Kuramochi put his arm around Kazuya’s shoulders. “You were afraid to tell me, weren’t you?” A gentle shake. “Idiot. You’re crazy—I lived with the guy for two and a half years, so I know what you’re getting into. But I’m happy for you. Fuck—” He laughed, shaking Kazuya again. “You always did love catching his pitches best.”
“It’s more than that,” Kazuya said, half afraid he was going to start crying with relief, but he leaned into Kuramochi a little.
“Oh, yeah?” Kuramochi raised his eyebrows, pulling back into his seat and eating another piece of chicken.
“You want details?”
Kuramochi made a face. “Uh, no. You told anyone else?”
“Eijun let it slip to Kominato. That’s all.”
“So he must be coming to see you at your apartment, huh?”
“He’s been up once,” Kazuya said, unable to stop himself from smiling at the memory. “And he texts. A lot. He gave me this.” He fingered the stag beetle attached to his phone.
Kuramochi was giving him a look—indulgent, soft.
“I don’t know that it will last. When he graduates—I don’t know.”
“No—you were happy, a second ago. Don’t ruin it. It’s nice to see you smile about something that doesn’t involve baseball.”
“Yeah, but that will always be part of it. When he visited, we spent half of it playing catch. He’s gotten better. You’ll see, today.”
Kazuya yelled himself hoarse that afternoon and when it was over, he and Kuramochi milled around with the exiting crowd, talking about this game, about their own game, a year before.
“Let’s meet them by the bus,” Kuramochi said, and Kazuya followed him, steps slowing, wishing he could meet Eijun alone.
There was a big crowd waiting for the Seidou players. They’d lost, but it had been a good, close game. A cheer went up when the team appeared. Kazuya joined his voice to the others, and there was Eijun, saying something to Kominato, then throwing an arm around a long-suffering Kanemaru.
It didn’t take long for Eijun to spot him and come rushing over. “Kazuya! Kuramochi-senpai! You came!”
“’Course we came to watch,” Kuramochi said, collaring Eijun and digging a fist into his ribs.
Eijun squawked a protest, wriggled free, and then he was in Kazuya’s arms.
Eijun’s eyes were red from tears, but he was smiling.
“Nice pitching,” Kazuya whispered, giving him a quick, tight hug.
Eijun preened, like he always did when Kazuya complimented him. Then other players were there, saying hello, asking Kazuya how he liked the pros, reminiscing about his days as captain and catcher at Seidou.
Then Eijun interrupted, tugging on his hand. “Kazuya, come and meet my family.”
It brought Kazuya’s heart into his throat, but Eijun introduced him as “my catcher—you remember.”
Bows and greetings. Kazuya tried not to stare at Eijun’s father’s hairstyle too long. Then he was being introduced to all of Eijun’s old teammates, including Wakana. Kuramochi came over too, then Kominato, and soon it turned into an amorphous mass of talking and laughing people. Kazuya hovered, adrift at the fringes, only one of Eijun’s many friends, no one for Eijun’s family to single out.
A journalist got a hold of him, recognizing him as a draft pick. “I came to cheer on my old team,” he said and made diplomatic comments about various players and the coaches.
Wasn’t he amazing? Wasn’t his pitching wonderful?
That was what he really wanted to say.
The team started to get ready to leave, the crowd dispersing. Eijun slipped to his side. “I’ll try to come visit again soon,” he whispered.
Kazuya stayed to wave at the bus, talked a little longer with Kuramochi before he had to leave, and then wandered back into the stadium by himself. He looked down at the field, remembering the feel of that last pitch Eijun had thrown to him, their last pitch as a battery. He remembered his realization that he didn’t want their partnership to only exist on the field, hemmed in by four bases and the smell of cut grass. He remembered the sweet, surprised smile Eijun had given him the first time they kissed.
*
A week later his phone rang, early in the evening, just as he was cleaning up after dinner.
“Chris-senpai?” he said, answering, wondering why Chris would be calling.
“Hello, Miyuki. I guess congratulations are in order.” Chris’s voice sounded as warm as ever.
But congratulations? For what? Chris had already called him to congratulate him on being drafted.
“Sawamura told me,” Chris continued, and Kazuya groped for a chair, collapsing into it.
“He told you?”
“Yes, but don’t be angry with him. He said he wanted to do it so you wouldn’t have to keep worrying about how I would react.”
“Oh.”
He could hear Chris’s smile. “Are you happy?”
Kazuya gripped his phone and tried to clear his throat so he could speak. “Yes.”
“I’m glad. Sawamura certainly sounded very much in love.”
In love. His heart clenched, painful.
“I imagine he’s a handful,” Chris continued.
“Yes.” Kazuya swallowed, shutting his eyes. “You know. He’s…”
Chris’s voice gentled. “I know.”
“When he graduates…If he gets an offer…” An offer from a college or a team far away. Too far for weekend trips.
“Well, worry about that if it happens, Miyuki.”
Kazuya nodded, even though Chris couldn’t see, and rubbed his thumb over the stag beetle charm. The paint had worn off its back, revealing the white plastic underneath.
*
Eijun retired from the team with the other third years, and now he had more free weekends. Even when Kazuya had training, Eijun still came up, and standing on the platform, waiting for Eijun’s train to arrive became familiar, a part of his routine. Or if he couldn’t meet Eijun, opening his apartment door and finding it full of the scent of popcorn, the sound of a DVD, and Eijun leaping off the couch and running over to him.
They got used to sharing a bed, and Kazuya taught Eijun how to cook a few simple meals, as promised, although often the lessons ended with Eijun perched on the counter, his flexible legs wrapped around Kazuya’s hips, too absorbed in kissing to care that the pot was about to boil over.
He learned that Eijun was prone to leaving the tube of toothpaste uncapped on the bathroom sink and that no amount of complaining changed this behavior.
*
He knew, deep down, that the odds were long that Eijun would be drafted by a pro team. Maybe if Eijun had been on better teams when he was younger, he would have had the all-around skills to make him a coveted player. He knew this, and yet it still hurt.
They wouldn’t play together again now. Not for years…maybe ever.
“You can get on a college team,” he told Eijun, who was curled up in a tight ball on Kazuya’s bed. He put a tentative arm around him, encouraged when Eijun didn’t shrug him off.
“I’m sorry,” Eijun said in a small, muffled voice. “You were waiting for me. I…I wanted to follow you.”
“You will…it’ll just take a bit longer.”
Eijun turned around to face him, revealing his tear-streaked face. “Then I’m going to study hard so I can get into a university near here.”
Kazuya brushed his thumb over Eijun’s cheek, smoothing away the salty tracks. “You should go somewhere with a good team. You should do what’s best for you.”
“Being close to you is what’s best for me,” Eijun replied, his eyes serious, and Kazuya was too selfish to contradict him.
*
Later that afternoon, he stuffed his hand into his mouth, biting down, trying to muffle the sounds he was making as Eijun crooked two fingers inside him.
“Does it hurt?” Eijun asked anxiously. “Am I doing it right?”
“Y-yes.” Kazuya had to clear his voice as it broke on the word.
“‘Yes’ to which question? It hurts, doesn’t it? I’ll stop—”
“No—it was a yes—to the second question.” He took a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to start cursing, even if it was tempting. “Just keep going.”
“Okay.” Eijun’s voice sounded small, and Kazuya groaned, getting one arm under himself and then turning around, Eijun’s fingers slipping out of him.
“Let’s do it this way,” he said, holding his arms open. “So I can see you, and you’ll know that you aren’t hurting me.”
Relief spread over Eijun’s face, and he leaned down, eager for the hug that Kazuya offered. Then it was more lube for his fingers, and he pressed inside Kazuya again, eyes intent on Kazuya’s face.
Impossible, now, to hide, but still Kazuya’s eyes kept skittering away, shy at revealing to Eijun his nervousness or the aching need to have Eijun filling him. Until Eijun said his name—gently—and he looked, helpless against the affection soaking each syllable, and was caught and found it was not so terrible after all to have this person seeing him, all of him, in such an intimate, tender moment.
Eijun kept holding his gaze, even as he replaced his fingers with his cock and pushed forward, the stretch overwhelming for a moment and then easing. Only then did Eijun close his eyes with a shudder, bowing down against Kazuya’s chest as he slid deeper.
Kazuya wrapped his arms around Eijun and rolled his hips, encouraging him to move, which Eijun did after a moment, drawing in a long breath.
“Kazuya,” Eijun groaned, as though it felt so good that it physically pained him. He touched the frame of Kazuya’s glasses in a silent question, and Kazuya nodded, taking them off and dropping them on the bedside table.
Eijun immediately kissed him, still fucking with shallow thrusts, groaning into Kazuya’s mouth. He kissed Kazuya’s cheeks and forehead, the bridge of his nose and his temples.
Kazuya melted into it, letting Eijun’s thrusts rock him back and forth. He knew the second Eijun came and wondered what it would be like without a condom. The thought made him grip Eijun harder, but he let him go when Eijun pulled slowly out. He lay sprawled where he was while Eijun got rid of the condom and only roused a little bit when Eijun got between his legs to suck him off. His energy was limited to working his fingers in Eijun’s messy hair and jerking upwards for a second when he shot his come into Eijun’s mouth.
“That was amazing,” he mumbled, reaching for his pillow and pulling it closer so he could curl around it.
“The fucking or the blow job?” Eijun asked, sounding amused, and Kazuya frowned because he was the one who was supposed to sound fondly amused of his younger kouhai, not the other way around.
But it seemed like too much effort to complain, so he only said, “Both,” and closed his eyes for a few seconds.
When he opened them again it was dark, and he was under the blanket. Eijun was sitting at his desk, the glow from his laptop screen illuminating his profile. He was wearing the Saitama jersey Kazuya had sent him and a pair of shorts.
“What are you doing?” Kazuya asked, groping for his glasses and putting them on.
“Oh, you’re awake—hold on a sec.” Eijun jumped up and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, returning with a bowl of strawberries. He plopped down on the bed next to Kazuya and held one up, level with Kazuya’s mouth.
“No,” Kazuya said, catching on.
“Why not?” Eijun pouted.
“I’m not a baby bird. I’ll bite your finger if you try.”
Eijun huffed and set aside the strawberries. “You haven’t got an ounce of romance in you, Miyuki Kazuya.”
“And here I was going to ask you to move in with me.”
“Ha—as if you’d do such a…wait.” Eijun stared at him. “Are you for real?”
Kazuya raised his eyebrows.
“Don’t tease me!” Eijun gave him a little shove in the chest. “Do you mean it?”
“If you get into a university near here—”
“I will!”
“And your parents say it’s okay—”
“They will!”
“And if you really want to—”
“I do!” Eijun crowded closer, jostling Kazuya in an ecstatic hug. “And then you can catch my pitches every day!”
“Oi—is that what all of this has been about?” He pried Eijun away and held him at arm’s length.
Eijun nodded vigorously. “It’s been my crafty plan from the beginning, senpai!”
Kazuya snorted. “If you were Ryou-san, I might actually believe it. But I know you don’t have the brains for something like that.”
Eijun laughed and dove in for another hug. “Don’t say such mean things to the person you love, Kazuya.”
He caught his breath, freezing for a second, and then smiled, cupping the back of Eijun’s head with his hand. “Yeah,” he murmured. “You’re right. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Eijun said, his voice muffled against Kazuya’s shoulder. “I fell in love with that horrible personality of yours, after all.”