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reality is nothing like a shoujo manga

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Eijun blames Kuramochi, wholly and with every fiber in his being for the mistake that is beach day. With little warning, Kuramochi ambushed half the team early Sunday morning to go on a beach trip. Somehow or another, he had the cafeteria ladies in on his scheme and he lured the team out with food and the challenge of beach volleyball.

It wasn’t until the team was on the train and Eijun was comfortably squashed between an elderly man and Haruichi, did he catch Miyuki’s wandering gaze from across the train for him to realize the predicament he was in. Eijun lamented against Haruichi’s shoulder in loud, incomprehensible garble until Kuramochi kicked his shin.

Forty minutes later, curled under Furuya’s umbrella with his hood tight around his face, Eijun groans against his knees for the third time in two minutes. If he looks up, he’ll have to risk seeing Miyuki shirtless and he’s not sure if he can take that. Somehow, he decides, that seeing Miyuki at the beach shirtless is different and worse than in the baths.

His stomach twists the more he thinks about it.

“Sawamura,” Furuya says, jabbing Eijun’s arm harder than he (hopefully) intended, “you’re taking up too much space.”

Eijun mumbles an apology and scoots over. Furuya sighs, fanning himself. Eijun sees no harm in looking at his fellow second-year but he regrets the decision to look up from the safety of his knees almost immediately. Miyuki’s not doing anything extraordinary, but his swim trunks hang low on his hips and Eijun catches himself before his eyes stray down any further. His tan line is near imperceptible. For a moment, Eijun wonders what it’d be like to run his fingers along the hollows of his hips, to lean in and kiss –

“Oi, Bakamura, is there a reason you’re leering at me?” Miyuki teases. He’s either oblivious to the inner turmoil Eijun faces when he runs his fingers through his hair or he’s the worst. It’s probably the latter, knowing Miyuki.

Eijun flushes, throwing a half-inflated beach ball at Miyuki. It falls pitifully three feet in front of him. Miyuki chokes on his laughter. Eijun buries his face back in his knees, unable to spit out a retort. His ears burn.

He lets out a shaky breath when Miyuki walks off to torture his roommate. He shouldn’t have come, he shouldn’t have let Kuramochi force him away from the school. Eijun could be at the dorms, practicing his batting or running. Yeah, running sounds like a good idea right about now.

“Eijun-kun, come split the watermelon,” Haruichi says, drawing Eijun from his shell.

He laughs. “Do you need my help, Harucchi? Are my muscles that impressive that you sought me out to help?” He puffs out his chest, his Miyuki troubles floating away with the ocean breeze.

A disgusted look crosses Haruichi’s face. “Suikawari, Eijun-kun. The game.”

“I—I knew that!” Eijun protests, jumping to his feet. “Did you set me up, Harucchi?”

“You jumped to that conclusion yourself,” Haruichi says. “Did you want to play or not?”

Eijun salutes. “YES!” Furuya winces, fanning himself harder.

“Loud,” Furuya mutters. Eijun glares at him but otherwise ignores him and strips his hoodie off.

A creepy smile pulls at Haruichi’s mouth. “You-senpai wants you to get the first-years.”

He doesn’t get the correlation between the borderline Ryou-senpai smile on Haruichi’s face and his words but, nevertheless he hurries off to the huddle of first-years crowding the edge of the ocean. Eijun trips over himself when he sees Miyuki in the water, directing Seto and Yui likely for some evil scheme. (They were looking for sand dollars.)

“Ah, Sawamura-senpai,” says Okumura after watching Eijun face plant in the sand. “You’re still embarrassing yourself here, I see.”

“Haha!” Miyuki laughs, his eyes hidden by black sunglasses but the smile that splits across his face sends sparks across Eijun’s flushed skin. Eijun wants to shove his head into the sand and never come back up. Faster than Eijun can even process what’s happening, Miyuki’s crouching beside his head, poking him in the forehead. “Did the fall kill you, Sawamura?”

“Of course not –” Eijun’s words die on his tongue when he realizes how close he is to Miyuki’s crotch. In this position, Miyuki’s too tight shorts give Eijun an eyeful of exactly what’s in Miyuki’s pants. And he’s packing. And wet. Eijun forces his gaze upwards but gets stuck at the trail of hair from his bellybutton down, a rivet of water painting a rather tantalizing path down Miyuki’s treasure trail – what Eijun wouldn’t give to lick –

Miyuki flicks his forehead. “Definitely a head injury.” Eijun snaps back to himself, shoving his feelings away.

“Miyuki Kazuya!” he yells, jumping to his feet. He grabs Okumura’s elbow, reveling in the way Miyuki’s lips pinch. “You’re the worst, Miyuki-senpai. Come on, Okami kozo, Kuramochi-senpai wants us to play suikawari.” He jerks his chin towards the other hovering first-years. “You guys too.”

They leave Miyuki crouching where he hasn’t moved a muscle.


“Kyahaha!” Kuramochi’s in stiches, leaning so heavily on Haruichi Eijun’s surprised his friend can still stand. Eijun crosses his arms, torn between mortification and irritation. “Bakamura! I can’t… believe… you sat on the watermelon!”

Even Okumura is laughing at him.

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you, Kuramochi-senpai?!” Eijun cries, his cheeks hot. His backside still feels cold and slightly sticky from his fall. Look, hitting a watermelon blindfolded isn’t easy! (Eijun spun around in a circle so many times in front of the watermelon that some slight vertigo kicked in and knocked him on his ass… on the watermelon.) Thankfully, Kawakami and Yui went to get another watermelon.

“Never!” Kuramochi gasps out between his laughs. Haruichi’s patting Kuramochi’s shoulder as he struggles to regain his breath.

Cold fingers brush along Eijun’s lower spine. Eijun whips around in time to watch in slow motion as Miyuki licks his fingers. “Tasty,” he says, like he didn’t just do that.

The silence is lost on Eijun, who inhales sharply, scandalized. “Miyuki Kazuya! You fiend!”

He’s smirking. “If I got a hundred yen every time you said my full name, I’d be a very rich man Sa~wa~mu~ra~” Eijun sways, feeling very weak in his knees. Miyuki’s still wet enough that his skin glistens and Eijun would very much like to touch every inch of Miyuki’s skin.

Gross,” Kuramochi interrupts, his lip curled back. Eijun leaps away from Miyuki, remembering where they are and who they’re with. He yells something about fishing and hauls Haruichi into the ocean where Eijun spends the next ten minutes screaming underwater.


Eijun must be cursed. That would explain why he’s on the same beach volleyball team as Miyuki. In fact, it would explain every horrific experience Eijun’s had since he got on the train that morning. (Yes, he’s going to blame Miyuki for sitting next to the farting old man on the train.)

God dammit Miyuki Kazuya is too damn attractive; it should be illegal for him to be this hot. It’s unfair. Miyuki’s back muscles tighten when he spikes the ball over Haruichi’s block. Eijun’s mouth goes drier than the Sahara Desert when Miyuki spins around, grinning. He’s got to stop reading so much shoujo manga if he’s going to fawn over Miyuki like a parched man discovering an oasis.

Kuramochi spikes the ball into Eijun’s chest, effectively winding him and ripping him from his borderline obsessive thoughts towards his catcher. Miyuki doubles over laughing. It’s both haunting and mildly arousing.

Getting back into the game Eijun knows very little about, his forces himself to focus on the task at hand and not on how amazing Miyuki’s ass looks in his swim trunks. Absolutely no brain power is spent on imagining Miyuki’s ass. Zilch. Nada, end of discussion.

The game ends when Kawakami and Yui return with a fresh watermelon and Kuramochi’s team has suffered an almost overwhelming defeat. They break for lunch and Eijun stuffs his face full of rice balls to take the edge off the hunger gnawing at his insides.

Miyuki ruffles his hair, hunkering down next to him. He’s pulled on a tank top, but it’s tight and somehow worse than when he was shirtless.

“You were pretty great out there,” Miyuki says, indifferent to the hundred emotions Eijun suddenly feels all at once.

Eijun grins. “Say it again.”

Miyuki quirks his eyebrow. “You were pretty great out there,” he repeats, a curious expression settling on his face. He’s swapped out his sunglasses for his glasses and Eijun isn’t sure if he’s glad he can see Miyuki’s eyes.

Warmth bubbles through Eijun’s veins. He feels very tingly, electrified. “Again,” he whispers.

Miyuki’s wolfish gaze rakes down Eijun’s slightly hunched over form. He straightens, wetting his lips when Miyuki’s eyes linger. Oh god, he might just combust if Miyuki leaned over and kissed him.

Except, reality is nothing like a shoujo manga and it is Miyuki Kazuya we’re talking about.

“Haha! Your praise kink is something else, Sawamura,” Miyuki laughs, swallowing back a mouthful of his coffee. Eijun inhales his lunch, trying to block out that fiasco. Luckily, Miyuki does most of the talking, and while he isn’t saying anything too interesting, Eijun finds himself completely captivated. He feels a little ridiculous for being so quiet but he can’t find a way to speak without blurting out ‘do you wanna make out, just for a second?’.

He likes the way Miyuki smiles when it's just the two of them. He adores how animated Miyuki can get while he talks, the way his eyes seem to darken the longer they talk. Sometimes, it can be so easy around Miyuki that Eijun wonders if his crush on Miyuki is getting worse.

Of course, nothing is ever sacred and Miyuki ruins the atmosphere so fast it gives Eijun whiplash. “But you were really distracted during the game –” which was completely Miyuki’s fault “ – so as your captain and catcher, I’m having you run twenty laps when we get back. And no, I’m not going to catch for you.”

Eijun gawks at him. “Miyuki Kazuya!”

“Miyuki-senpai,” he sniffs, “or I’ll make it two hundred.”

“You’re a demon, Miyuki-senpai,” Eijun groans, missing the hungry look that flashes in Miyuki’s eyes.

Miyuki laughs, pressing his fist against Eijun’s chest, effectively gobbling up all the oxygen in the air. “Just kidding, Bakamura~”

Eijun has never wanted to simultaneously throttle and kiss a man so bad before but there’s always a first time for everything.

The rest of beach day is uneventful (excluding when Kuramochi dumped a handful of sand into Miyuki’s swim trunks) and they’re on the train before sundown to avoid breaking curfew. Aside from a handful of salary men and some fellow high schoolers, the train is blissfully empty. They squeeze into the seats, exhausted and the promise of early morning practice is weighing on their shoulders.

Eijun’s given up caring that the gods hate him after getting stuck between Kuramochi and Miyuki. Miyuki’s absorbed in his conversation with Zono, who gave up his seat the fastest to a frail old woman who looks completely pleased with her spot between Furuya and Okumura. Furuya’s dozing off on her shoulder.

Eijun’s somewhat sleepy himself, which is bizarre since he’s spent longer hours in the blistering sun before and still had energy to spare. He blames running from his heart and Miyuki for his fatigue. His head drops onto Miyuki’s shoulder who doesn’t say anything.


“Sawamura,” Miyuki whispers in Eijun’s ear. He stirs.

“M—Miyuki-shempai?” he slurs, still dreaming of Miyuki above him, kissing a hot, wet trail down his neck –

“…Did you just call me ‘shempai’? OI, Sawamura!”

Eijun jolts awake. “YES?!” he says, loud enough to disrupt every passenger on board. He sinks in his seat, cursing Miyuki out in his head.

Miyuki laughs quietly. “We’re almost at the station but feel free to use my shoulder all you want, Sa~wa~mu~ra~”

Instead of dignifying Miyuki with an answer, he snubs him and stands. Surprise flitters across Miyuki’s features.

“Feel free to catch for me when we get back,” Eijun says, holding onto the pole while the train takes a particularly harsh turn.

Miyuki snorts, “That’s not going to happen.”

"Exactly,” Eijun says, sending Miyuki’s shoulder a very pointed look and makes his way to the door, his ears burning.

“Cat go your tongue, Miyuki?” Kuramochi sniggers, elbowing their captain. Miyuki grumbles something under his breath and Eijun counts this as a win.

During the walk back to the dorms their group naturally breaks off into smaller sections and Miyuki whistles, purposely slowing down to match Eijun’s groggy pace.

"You’re awfully slow right now,” he teases, jostling Eijun lightly with his elbow. Eijun refuses to blush anymore today.

“Is that a challenge?!” Eijun demands, mentally worn-out from the mind games they played today. The view Eijun had from Miyuki’s crotch level haunts him still to this moment.

Miyuki hides a laugh in his hand. “Perhaps another day,” Miyuki concedes, his lips quirking into Eijun’s favorite smile. “Did you have fun checking me out today?”

Eijun sputters. “W – WHAT?!”

The amusement on Miyuki’s face is infuriating. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice the way you looked at me like I was a delicious piece of meat?” He loops an arm around Eijun’s shoulders, pulling him in close. He lowers his voice and murmurs in a way that it goes straight to Eijun’s groin. “You don’t think I normally wear shorts that low, do you?”

Eijun gawks at him. “Were you… flirting with me?”

As per typical Miyuki fashion, he merely laughs and drops his arm. “Who knows… shempai.”

Aghast, Eijun cries, “Miyuki Kazuya!”


That night, both have the best wet dreams they’ve ever had and Kuramochi goes back to the drawing board.