Work Text:
you know you free my soul
you ride my wave, I control
you guide the wave like you’re told
mon amour
*^*^*
“Just to be clear…you guys aren’t exes?”
Miyuki snorts at Jun’s question. “As if I’d ever date someone like Sawamura in the first place.”
“Hey!” The boy in question is so red it looks like he’s about to burst. “How dare you! I’ll have you know a lot of people want to date me.”
They’re all gathered in Miyuki’s room after the last gruelling day of training camp, haphazardly taking up space and interrupting what should have been time for him to sleep. He’s playing shogi with Tetsu-san, Jun-san hanging off the latter’s shoulder to laugh at how badly they're progressing. Kuramochi and Haruichi are punching buttons on their respective controllers in front of the TV and Miyuki watches the character with blond-punky hair die in all his glory.
His eyes flick towards his bed, where Sawamura has made himself at home, reclined against his pillows. He’s holding a baseball in the air and tracing the seams with his thumbs. Miyuki hides a smile. Baseball fool, he thinks, as if he isn’t the biggest fool of them all.
Kuramochi’s voice is dangerously low when he cuts in. “Oh? Is this Wakana-chan we’re referring to? Your girlfriend Wakana-chan?”
“No!” Sawamura protests, looking increasingly uncomfortable. He props himself up. “We’re not dating. I’ve told you so many times that we’re just friends!”
“Just friends, huh? There’s no way you could turn Wakana-chan down,” Kuramochi scowls. “What does she even see in you?”
“Nothing! I don’t know! Why are you asking me this?”
“Because,” Ryousuke cuts in, looking rather pleased at the grilling, “you were bragging to Miyuki about how coveted you are amongst your peers.”
There’s a snigger from the other corner of the room, where Shirasu and Nori sit crossed-legged, patiently unpacking a box of chocolate pudding for Masuko who was struggling to tear open the plastic. Furuya is holding a spoon, sitting opposite both of them, looking desperately shy for a bite.
“I wasn’t bragging, nii-san, I just wanted to put Miyuki Kazuya in his place—”
“Is that so?” Ryousuke’s eyes curve into half-moons. “Is that what the young people are calling it these days?’
“Calling WHAT?” Sawamura shouts. He’s looking more flushed by the second, Miyuki observes.
“Oh, don’t pretend to be innocent, Eijun-kun,” Haruichi pipes up, having defeated Kuramochi. “Both Furuya-kun and I have seen the stash under your pillow.”
The fastball pitcher blinks up at the sound of his name, cocking his head. “What?”
“Nothing,” Haruichi replies sweetly, then turning back to the rest of the room— “Furuya-kun’s not reliable with these things anyway, but you can take my word for it.” Masuko grunts an ‘uga’ with approval.
Sawamura drops the baseball he was holding into his lap, his bangs concealing his eyes. Unfortunately for him (and fortunately for everyone else), his hair does nothing to hide the blush across his cheeks.
“W-what stash,” Sawamura mumbles. And oh, oh, he’s being shy. Miyuki grips his shoji piece tighter, feeling something settle in his stomach.
“Eijun-kun,” Haruichi reprimands, “if you keep denying it, I’ll be forced to share with the class what sort of preferences you have.”
“His kinks , you mean,” Ryousuke links his hands together, not unlike how someone would begin an interrogation across a table in the police department. “Do share.” And oh, oh, are Ryousuke’s eyes open?
Sawamura is becoming overly familiar with denial at this point. “I don’t have any kinks,” he sniffs, sticking his nose in the air.
Miyuki makes a disbelieving noise at the back of his throat. Everyone turns to look at him, eagerly, like lions leering at their prey. For good measure, Ryousuke demands, “Spill.”
The second-year catcher shrugs, feigning ignorance. “I can’t remember. All I know is that Sawamura can tell you he’s a bit of a beast—”
There’s a shrill scream that escapes Sawamura’s mouth to drown out the rest of Miyuki’s sentence. “MIYUKI KAZUYA, SHUT UP!”
“Where’s my senpai honorific, you brat,” he grins, revelling in the way Sawamura’s flustering has created a blotchy reddish pattern over his face.
The southpaw grabs one of Miyuki’s pillows and hides his face behind it. “You’re a tanuki bastard, so that means no honorifics for you!”
Kuramochi has gone a sort of green colour to match his hair. “Why do you know he’s got any kinks at all, Miyuki? I’m his roommate, if anyone should know anything, it’s me!”
“Someone’s jealous,” Miyuki trills, a smarmy smile spreading across his face. This is enough provocation for Kuramochi to spring up from where he’s sitting in front of the TV to grab Miyuki by the collar.
“Who’s jealous!” He shakes Miyuki to let the message sink in. “I don’t know jealousy!”
There’s an awkward silence that descends across the room at this exclamation because, wow, Kuramochi, how many lies are you determined to tell in a day?
To summarise, there are 3 fundamental laws in dealing with Kuramochi Yoichi.
- Kuramochi is a horny, jealous person. Do not, under any circumstances, mention Wakana-chan to him at all. If you do, prepare to be attacked and wrestled into silence for mentioning her.
- Kuramochi is a protective, jealous person. If you harbour any intentions towards Sawamura Eijun-kun, please ensure that you avoid Kuramochi otherwise you will be subjected to the same style of violence as above.
- Kuramochi is a nosy, jealous person. If you know more about Sawamura than he does, get ready to be hunted and eliminated so that he stays on top (see relevant article about brocons).
“You are,” Ryousuke begins, “rather eager to be Sawamura’s favourite senpai, Yoichi.”
“I– I am his favourite senpai,” Kuramochi declares, letting Miyuki drop. Masuko frowns, disagreeing with a loud uga which the shortstop tactfully ignores. “And even if I’m not, which I am, Miyuki isn’t even in contention!”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you,” Miyuki mutters from the floor, adjusting the glasses on his face.
Before Kuramochi can snap something back, Sawamura interrupts him. “Kuramochi -senpai, you don’t have to worry about Miyuki Kazuya. He’s nowhere near the top.”
The shortstop huffs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not worried. Who said anything about worrying? I’m just making sure to put people in their place.” He sends a glare at Miyuki, before settling down on the floor again.
“And besides, senpais, I’m super vanilla.” The pitcher folds a little under everyone’s gaze. “Just normal things, you know.”
Furuya coughs at this, surprising everyone who had assumed he fell asleep. “Liar liar pants on fire,” he chants from under his breath, looking unbothered by all the ribbing directed at his fellow first-year.
Jun bursts out laughing next to Tetsu-san who cracks a smile. “Furuya,” the former gasps between his cackling, “you did not just wake up to slander Sawamura—”
“Why not?” Furuya cocks his head, unruffled. “He was disturbing my peace.”
“Your peace— your peace?” Sawamura shouts, looking betrayed. “There’s no more peace between us, Furuya! I’m gonna outrun you so hard tomorrow morning that you’ll have trouble breathing—”
Tetsu-san clears his throat, shooting both first-year pitchers looks that they can’t decipher. “Don’t run him too hard now, Sawamura, we need him to still walk after you’re through with him.”
The room bursts into raucous yelling at this, but Jun’s voice is heard above the rest, shrieking “you dog, Tetsu!”. Furuya has taken this as permission to bow out, and he closes his eyes again, comforted by everyone’s screaming. Miyuki clutches his stomach, where he feels a stitch forming from laughing too much.
Sawamura is blushing to his roots now, the colour spreading to his neck and warming his ears. “That’s not what I meant, Leader-sama , you’re twisting my words!”
“No, Sawamura, you’re the one who doesn’t think about what you’re saying before you speak.” Shirasu interjects, and Miyuki doesn’t think he’s ever seen Shirasu look so amused before.
“I just mean, you know, Furuya and I always run in the morning with our tires—”
“If I hear another innuendo come out of you, I’ll have to wash your mouth, Sawamura.” Jun says, finally catching a breath. “I leant you those shoujo mangas to preserve your youth, but alas, eggs hatch so quickly, don’t they Tetsu?”
The captain nods solemnly. “I think this is my sad dad moment, where they leave the nest. I didn’t even get to give him The Talk yet.”
Jun cracks a grin, but keeps up the charade by patting Tetsu on the back. “It’s time for us to set the little birdies free.”
“Jun-san,” Kuramochi guffaws, “stop, you’re torturing him.”
Sawamura looks like he’s torn between shouting at all of them in protest or hiding underneath Miyuki’s duvet cover. Tetsu-san puts him out of his misery.
“Alright, Sawamura, we’ll stop,” he waves the metaphorical white flag. “But what was this about Jun thinking you and Miyuki were together?”
“We knew each other before Seido,” Miyuki says, saving Sawamura the embarrassment of blubbering aloud an answer.
“Are you sure you aren’t exes?” Ryousuke wheedles, looking unconvinced. “There’s a vibe I’m catching…but I’m not quite sure what it is exactly.”
“I don’t want a girlfriend right now, nii-san,” Sawamura quickly jumps in, looking a little less nervous now that he’s a self-declared vanilla boy.
There’s a quiet laugh that comes from the younger Kominato brother. “No one said anything about a girl, Eijun-kun.”
“Well, I have everything I want at the moment, Harucchi, so if that’s your boyfriend-application, I’m going to have to reject it.” He sounds so stupidly apologetic over it too.
“I’m gutted, Eijun-kun,” Haruichi says dryly, rolling his eyes. “It’ll take me a few days to recover.”
“Enough,” Ryousuke says. “Sawamura, I don’t want you tainting my brother with your kinky ways. And Haruichi, I hope you’re not planning to date anyone any time soon.”
Haruichi’s gaze flickers to the corner of the room briefly, before he meets his older brother’s eyes. “Of course not, aniki, I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Why are you being so cagey about how you know each other, Miyuki?” Nori speaks up, looking sceptical. “Why is it some big secret?”
“It’s not,” Miyuki says. “I just like seeing you all squirm.”
“Just when I thought you weren’t so insufferable, you have to go and prove me wrong again and again,” Kuramochi mutters, shooting him a dark look.
“That’s the only thing I’m good for,” the catcher shrugs. “Anyways, I don’t know why you’re all ganging up on me. It’s not like Sawamura’s being any more forthcoming than I am.”
At this, the first-year southpaw shuffles under Miyuki’s duvet cover and pulls it over his head. The message could not be clearer: leave me alone.
“Oh dear, now you’re making me feel bad, Sawamura,” Ryousuke says, not looking the least bit remorseful. “Shall I ask Masuko to give you some of his pudding as compensation?”
Masuko lets out an angry uga which is easily interpreted by everyone in the room as ‘ my pudding isn’t for sale’. There’s a muffle from underneath the covers which nobody quite makes out, except Miyuki, who pipes up.
“He says he’s fine. And that he hates all of you.” There’s a pause— “Respectfully, of course.”
“That’s fine,” Shirasu shrugs. “So are we assuming the childhood friends route then?”
“Well, yes,” Jun nods, then shakes his head. “But also no. Miyuki lives in Tokyo. He’s a city boy, born and bred. There’s no way he ever lived in Nagano, even for a month.”
“Hey now,” Miyuki protests, feeling insulted without it having been explicitly stated. “I think I should be taking offence to that. I can be a country person if I want to be.”
There’s a brief pause where everyone imagines Miyuki with a straw hat, ploughing fields, driving tractors and milking cows before a simultaneous headshake occurs in the room.
“There’s no way.”
“Over his dead body.”
“Hey, hey,” he protests weakly, feeling more amused than anything else. “Are you really going to gang up on the person whose room you’re in? Be good guests.”
“We’re your senpais, Miyuki, you should be grateful we’re gracing you with our presence,” Jun-san growls, crossing his arms in a Tetsu-like fashion.
“As if you have anywhere else to go,” Miyuki mutters under his breath, feeling sleepier by the second. Thankfully, no one hears him. If only everyone could clear out, he’d finally get some time alone with his pillow, his bed; his peace and quiet and maybe a certain someone who would stay behind at his request.
Sawamura sticks his head out of the burrito-shaped roll he had spun himself into. “Miyuki-senpai, please catch for me right now.”
“Right now? It’s like the dead of night. And my bedtime,” he clears his throat at the rest of the room, hoping they get the hint.
The rest of the first-string stir a little and he sees a couple of them check their watches. Thank goodness Tetsu-san is the one who nods in agreement with Miyuki a second later. He starts shepherding a mixture of bleary-eyed and hyperactive baseball players out of the room, all in desperate need of sleep regardless of their present state of mind.
Miyuki likes to complain about the audacity of his team more often than not, but all of them thank him for the use of his room before bowing out, even his senpais, so he pushes down the bubble of exhaustion threatening to implode and offers all of them a half-hearted smile. His room is more less empty save for Kuramochi and Haruichi tidying up the consoles when Sawamura (who is naturally still here) asks him again.
“Miyuki- senpai,” Sawamura whines, voice pitched high, emphasising the honorific. “Please catch for me a little. I just want to practise throwing my four-seamer. My fingers demand it!”
“Is that so,” Miyuki hums, pulling on one of his sleeping eye-masks on top of his head.
“It is so! I won’t be able to go to sleep unless you come with me.”
There’s a tsk under someone’s breath and Miyuki turns his head to see Kuramochi sealing a box filled with wires with a disgusted look on his face. “Married.”
“Oh no,” Miyuki replies to his green-haired friend. “Not married, yet. Isn’t that right, Ei-chan?”
“Shut up, Miyuki Kazuya! Who on earth would want to marry you? Certainly not me!” His head is tucked back into the blanket again, only his tufts of hair visible against the white sheet.
Miyuki tuts, walking over to his own bed and sitting down next to the bundle of covers. “That’s not what you were saying the other day,” he sings.
There’s a wriggle. “What other day! There are no other days of the week! Days of the week don’t exist!”
Miyuki digs both hands into the roll of sheets and finds Sawamura’s stomach. There’s a squeal that comes from underneath, and something that sounds like ‘ I’m ticklish!’ before he says, “I can count seven days in the week, actually. But then again, maths isn’t my forte. What do you think, Kuramochi?”
There’s a spluttering from the TV screen, where both Haruichi and Kuramochi have finished packing things up and are looking for their phones.
“I think that you should leave me out of your lover's quarrel so I won’t be plagued by nightmares of your face.”
“Awh, Kuramochi-kun, you’re too sweet to me!” Miyuki crows.
“You make me sick,” is the response he gets before the door slams shut behind the shortstop.
There’s a beat of silence before– “Eijun-kun?” Haruichi says, awkward. “Are you just going to hide in Miyuki-senpai’s bed or are you going back to your own room?”
Sawamura’s head pops out again and Miyuki has to stifle a snicker. “You go ahead first, Harucchi. I need to talk to Miyuki-sepnai.”
Haruichi hesitates before nodding, excusing himself from the room.
And then there were two.
“Eijun,” Miyuki wiggles his fingers in his duvet again, “come out. They’re all gone.”
Sawamura sits up properly now, letting the wrinkled duvet slide off of him as he tucks his knees together and rests his head on top. “Hi, Miyuki-senpai,” is the smiling reply. His nose is crinkled and his eyes are shut, curving into half-moons. Miyuki wants to trace the lines of this face with his fingers and map out the shape of it forever.
“Do you seriously want me to catch for you?” Miyuki tucks a messy strand of Sawamura’s hair behind his ear.
“I always want you to catch for me. But,” Sawamura continues before his catcher can start protesting, “we’re both tired. I was hoping we could just…I don’t know…sleep?”
Miyuki leans back against his bed. “Look at you, Eijun, no dirty thoughts about your senpai whatsoever, huh?”
“Wait no– that’s not true! You’re definitely—” Sawamura turns another shade of pink, shutting his mouth immediately.
“I’m what?” Miyuki leans closer so that their noses are only inches apart. He says cheekily, “I’m definitely all that you dream of and more?”
“Don’t tease,” Sawamura huffs. “You’re not ugly Miyuki Kazuya. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“Not ugly. What a glowing review from my boyfriend.”
“There you go twisting my words again! You know what I mean, Kazuya, I just don’t want your head to grow any bigger than it already is.”
Miyuki gets out of bed to switch off the lights, replying, “My head is a very respectable size, thank you very much. Besides, you're the one who wants to keep our relationship a secret.” Feeling his way blindly back to his bed, he jokes, “Ashamed of me?”
“Of course not!” Sawamura squawks loudly, causing Miyuki to jump and bang his elbow against his headboard. “Oops, sorry Kazuya,” his voice drops, whispering. “I’ll use my indoor voice.”
“Unless you want to wake up the other dorms and have Kuramochi storm in here with a bat,” Miyuki winces, cradling his arm in pain.
“Hush, Kazuya, you’re too dramatic. Anyways, it’s not about keeping it from others, it’s about keeping it between us. Don’t you get it?”
Miyuki pauses his shuffling. He gets it, he thinks he does. Sawamura talks about it a lot– about how this thing between them, this relationship, this love is so precious to him that he wants to treasure it and keep it private; something only they’ll ever know and understand. Regardless of whether they tell any of their friends or teammates, Miyuki thinks his pitcher is right. People can be appreciative and congratulatory or even smug at guessing their relationship correctly, but the Seido Spirit Dorm is already so public, so noisy, so vulgarly filled with hormonal teenage boys. It feels precious to keep a secret between themselves for now.
When they’re alone together, it’s like time stops.
Time is stopping right now, Miyuki thinks. No one else knows how much they love each other. Nobody except them.
“I get it,” Miyuki whispers back, tucking both of them in his duvet. “I get you.”
“I know you do, Miyuki Kazuya,” Sawamura grins back. In the dark, Miyuki can still make out the width of his smile and the glint in his eyes. “That’s why you’ll always be my favourite person.”
*^*^*
i wanna eat pancakes for dinner
i wanna get stuck in your head
i wanna watch a TV show together
and when we’re under the weather we can watch in bed
*^*^*
Together, they dream of sunlight, wet grass and victory.
(Because when it’s the two of them, how could they possibly lose?)