Miyuki was bitter, and he had no plans of hiding it. Sure, it was the boy himself who said he’d “be fine with whatever the coach decides”, but being taken off the starting roster for three weeks was too much, especially for Miyuki, who had been playing in every game since he enrolled in Seidou’s Baseball Club.
All of a sudden, Miyuki went from having his hands full to having nothing at all.
Winter meant shorter classes, and shorter classes meant more practice, more practice and even more practice. At least, that was how things were supposed to be. Instead all Miyuki did was loiter around the fields, checking the conditions of the team (and at times, even the equipment) and more frequently as of late: ‘being a prick’.
“Miyuki-senpai! You’re kind of in the way, so can you move aside?!”
“Why? I’m not exactly in your way, am I?” Technically, Miyuki really wasn’t. He was simply rocking back and forth on a chair in the bullpen, a safe distance away from baseballs, watching.
“Oi, Furuya! That was definitely a ball! A ball, you hear! Are you trying to walk the batters? You gotta pitch lower!” Well, okay, fine; maybe Miyuki was interjecting occasionally. Who could blame him? He had been looking forward to coming up with new practice programmes, to trying out new pitches with his pitchers. But at least when he did open his mouth, he was giving constructive feedback to help the team improve. They should be grateful!
“Miyuki. You’re distracting the pitchers. Get out of the bullpen.” Miyuki almost answered with a pout until he remembered this was Kataoka speaking to him, and he went for a “yessir~” before setting the chair aside and reluctantly made for the dugout to watch the field simulation practice. Even though Kataoka had been more lenient to Miyuki the past week, the coach would never let him do as he please when it affected the team. It was one of the reasons Miyuki respected the man so much.
He stood propped on his elbows against the thin wall separating the dugout from the field, cap shielding his eyes as he watched. Kataoka batted; Kuramochi caught the ball and tossed it straight to first base. Another hit of the ball and it flew – straight into Kominato’s glove. Everyone was doing well. Then there was base running. Miyuki found himself grinning as he watched Kuramochi dash across the bases effortlessly, tongue stuck out in his signature laugh. For the briefest of moment their eyes met and Miyuki turned away without hesitation.
Crap. He knew he’d been watching Kuramochi too much recently, and the latter, being the perceptive ass he was, had probably noticed too.
In all honesty, Miyuki had yet to figure out… whatever this whole thing was. Since getting taken off the starting roster (temporarily, he must emphasise), he’d had too much time to see, too much time to feel. To realise how much he looked at Kuramochi, on the field, off the field. Miyuki was troubled by his own actions; he was supposed to be overlooking the team, not Kuramochi. Not turning every time Miyuki heard his damn voice, not standing on his toes when he sees green peeking out in a crowd, and definitely not casually swinging his arm around that empty shoulder.
“–ki. I said Miyuki. Practice’s over, goddamit!”
Miyuki’s eyes snapped open. Since when had he fallen asleep? His vision focused and – and –
“Kuramochi?!” Shit, his face was too close. Miyuki’s reflex had him moving backwards, and he hit against the wall hard, groaning at the new pain at the back of his head, and the familiar dull pain at his abdomen. Kuramochi detected the slightest of grimace on Miyuki’s face, of course he did, and promptly slid Miyuki’s arm over his shoulder and helped him up. “Shit, man. What the hell’s up with you? I know you’re itching to catch some balls, but we can’t have you getting bedridden before the Koshien games.”
Well, yeah, like your balls.
“What?” Kuramochi’s frown suggested he must’ve noticed the look on Miyuki’s face, and the latter managed an easy grin as he tightened the arm around Kuramochi’s shoulder, leaning more into him purposefully, ignoring the chaos which was his heart.
“No, no. I was thinking how sweet you are, you know? Worrying about me and all that~” And just as Miyuki predicted, Kuramochi pushed him away with a look of disgust, and he used the chance to slide his arm away so he was standing by himself. “Asshole. Would you die if you just let me help you for once?”
Miyuki didn’t reply, simply briskly walked away for his bath, leaving Kuramochi behind, certain that his shortstop was yelling insults. He was too busy to care; his mind was reeling with too many things then, namely, what the fuck was he supposed to do with his feelings now? Even though he’d (just) realised it, Miyuki wasn’t stupid enough to believe that he’d have a chance with Kuramochi. Say Kuramochi did actually say yes, then what? Relationships for Miyuki was… out of the question, in a sense. He almost collided with another member in his thoughts, and he mumbled some form of apology and greeting before passing him.
“Hey, Miyuki, you bastard! How dare you leave me back there?!”
Oh, right. Miyuki had forgotten, for a split second, that the first-strings had decided to gather in his room that night (to do absolutely nothing, which Miyuki had unfortunately gotten used to over time). Along with the fact that Kuramochi was a first-string member. He felt a smack to his head the same spot he’d hit it earlier that day, none too gently, and wondered if a lump would grow overnight and he’d wake up to a swollen head.
“What’s this? And here I thought you two were finally getting along!”
“Well, we were,” Kuramochi grunted, settling for his favorite spot in front of the TV with his game console, ready for a one-on-one with Shirasu, “Before Captain-san decided to be jerk about it.”
That was your fault, Miyuki wanted to shoot back, but considered the potential commotion it may eventually lead to, and wisely decided against it. He opted for a rub of the sore spot on his scalp, and laughed heartily. “Ahaha, thanks for the compliment!”
“It wasn’t one!”
Laughing again, Miyuki rested his head gently against the wall, flipping his magazine open, relieved. It’s the same as usual, he told himself. No need to panic. It was easy to hide his feelings, easy to shield his eyes from the world behind his loyal spectacle frames. He remained just as he was the whole time, smiling and shaking his head in polite refusal whenever he was asked for a round at the game, only lifting his head to give short answers when questioned just what he was so absorbed in reading.
It felt like forever before they filed out of Miyuki’s room one by one as curfew neared, and he tried not to sound too ecstatic about having them finally leave as he bid them good night. He was aware of how he was avoiding eye contact with Kuramochi, but not that that mattered, because the shortstop had his hands full with his roommate, Sawamura. I am not getting jealous, Miyuki gritted his teeth. Kuramochi did that to everybody, plus Sawamura was an idiot. So. (As if that explained anything, but it explained everything, so Miyuki told himself).
The moment the door clicked behind him, Miyuki reached for the light switch, leaving the soft glow of his night lamp as the only source of light in his room as he fell back onto his bed, deep in thought, mostly about how he’d come to this point.
Kuramochi was one of the few people Miyuki might call a “friend”. In fact, he was considered one of the closest people Miyuki has had in his eighteen years of life. As much as he took no joy in admitting it, it was a fact. The shortstop was usually laidback and excelled in being annoying, but he was perceptive in the weirdest of things.
Take, for example, when he was one of the first to have noticed Miyuki’s injury (Shirasu let him in that detail, and it made him feel something he couldn’t quite place then). Rather, he was usually the first to notice anything off about anybody on the team, actually. As the team captain, yes, Miyuki had to admit Kuramochi’s skills were valuable on the field. But when he was just Miyuki and he Kuramochi, he wished the latter would be just a little less observant about… well, about everything.
So, how, exactly, had Miyuki fallen in love with the exact kind of person he didn’t want to get too close to? The more he thought about it, the more his head throbbed. He wasn’t exaggerating when he actually zoned out for a moment from the pain when he hit his head (and then got smacked; all in a day’s work). A little more thinking and groaning, Miyuki decided to just sleep. There was no point in fretting what was already done – that was the past. Moving forward was one thing Miyuki believed he was good at doing, and he decided that’s what he should do. Satisfied, Miyuki let sleep take over him.
Of course, Miyuki wasn’t so naive he believed he could avoid the subject forever. Personally, he’d rather go on with his days normally, but every time Kuramochi got close, Miyuki could see the question in his eyes, and he wasn’t ready to go there yet. All he really needed was some time to come to terms with himself, and carefully plan his next step. A.k.a, confession.
Kuramochi, at some point, had gotten fed up with Miyuki’s obvious evasions when he so much as stepped in a metre range of him. It was lunch break when Kuramochi approached Miyuki’s seat. Well, crap. For the past week he’d managed to slip out of class before Kuramochi even turned to look for him, but that day their math teacher had been pissed with the class’s average grade for the latest test and held the class back. Not that it concerned Miyuki, who easily excelled in the subject.
“Oi, Miyuki!” Kuramochi caught Miyuki just as his hands found the bento in his bag and pulled it out. A little more than awkwardly, Miyuki lifted his eyes and they found Kuramochi’s sizzling one.
Crap, he was truly mad. Not the way he was usually pissed at Miyuki – Kuramochi was always pissed at him – but really angry. While it wasn’t like Miyuki thought he could avoid this forever, especially when they were classmates, but it was still way too quick. Why wasn’t Kuramochi this good when it came to reading the pitcher’s next pitch, the bastard.
Miyuki opted for a light tone, playing safe just in case Kuramochi might have had something else in mind. Not likely, but at this point was going to take any chance he’d got. “Wow, Kuramochi-kun~ How rare that you’d initiate a conversation with me!”
As if. They always had lunch together in class; it wasn’t like they had any friends, not even each other. Not really. Miyuki saw the exact moment Kuramochi’s brows drew together into a deep frown as he pulled a chair none too quietly and sat so he was on eye level with Miyuki. Kuramochi leaned in, voice low, eyes sharp.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
Yup, Miyuki thought to himself. Definitely way too perceptive for his own good.
“What could you possibly mean, then?” He raised a challenging eyebrow, because he knew Kuramochi hadn’t figured out that much yet. Just as Miyuki expected, Kuramochi clicked his tongue.
“Shit, I hate that part of you.” The line stung a little more than it should have, and Miyuki winced at the unfamiliar feeling. Kuramochi using “hate” and “you” in the same line directed at Miyuki was something he did on a daily basis, and there was absolutely no reason why that line should start hurting him now. He was Miyuki Kazuya, for fuck’s sake. So, of course, he laughed. A light hearted laugh, perhaps a little too light hearted for Miyuki.
“Why, thank you.”
“Miyuki,” Kuramochi hissed with more urgency, and Miyuki wondered how could the same one word – his name – carry so many kinds of emotions behind it. Miyuki considered his options. It would be easy to come up with some form of excuse and leave to come up with an emergency backup plan, also equally easy to make up a reason as to why he was avoiding him. But this was Kuramochi, and he’d never buy that crap.
So Miyuki did the one thing he could – he stalled for time.
“Well, if you want to know that badly, why don’t you come look for me in my room after dinner?” He added a smile at the end, hoping to ease whatever tension there was between them. Kuramochi took the bait, just like Miyuki knew he would.
“Fine. Just be prepared, because I won’t let you go until I’m satisfied with whatever shit excuse you have, Miyuki.”
Kuramochi was true to his word. Throughout practice, he had his eyes on Miyuki whilst performing as normal. Perhaps even better, for he seemed to be desperate to get batting and fielding over with so he could fix his eyes on the catcher, as though his gaze could hold him in his spot, which so happened to be the dugout. Again.
Miyuki, wanting to annoying Kuramochi, for he was more than annoyed to be watched at almost all times, grinned and waved with a wink whenever their eyes met. It worked every time with Kuramochi grunting and turning away for a short moment before he seemed to recall why he even bothered snapping his head back to glare at Miyuki every time.
And with every passing hour, Miyuki got even jumpier. Tonight, his mind kept whispering to him. Tonight, you will be confessing. A hopeless case. An embarrassment to carry for the rest of your life. Miyuki groaned for he knew the whispers were true. It was already dinner time, and he’d been so concerned over how he’d get rejected he hadn’t even planned how he was going to confess. So much for being a strategist.
It was all too soon when Miyuki heard a knock on his door and he jolted at the sound, too loud when it was so quiet in his room, dropping the shirt he was folding.
“Miyuki. Open up.”
Miyuki gulped and stood, his bed creaking at the sudden loss of weight. He reached for the doorknob, and the moment it turned, the door flew open, dragging Miyuki out with it and right into Kuramochi’s arms.
“Woah! Holy shit, you finally opened!” Kuramochi steadied Miyuki, whose face was definitely flushed, and he thanked the lucky stars that the light outside his apartment was faulty so it flickered, allowing Miyuki some form of escape. He shut the door and leaned against it, needing a means of support for what he was about to say. Kuramochi simply stared at the boy. Hovering so close, only inches away, stiff, almost as though he was ready to pounce if Miyuki were to turn and flee into his room. It was the closest they’d been in a week, and it made his insides do things he’d never admit.
Well, not if Kuramochi turns to flee first after hearing what Miyuki has to say.
Kuramochi folded his arms. “…So?”
Miyuki inhaled deeply. There was no point in dragging things out. An excuse wouldn’t cut it, and he couldn’t risk harming their relationship any further. So he would to be straightforward without revealing any weakness.
“So,” he repeated, lips trembling slightly, lifting his eyes. Deep breaths, Kazuya. “Mochi, I’m in love with you. It’s impossible, but still, it’d be great if we could go out.”
Just as he’d replayed in his mind a million times, Kuramochi’s eyes widened, mouth gaping, his stance broken. Any other time, Miyuki would’ve gotten a good laugh at this reaction. Not tonight. He’d known this would be the answer, but it still hurt a damn lot. Since when did he become just an emotional mess, really.
“I said,” Miyuki’s a tad annoyed now, both at Kuramochi and himself, and he raised his voice. “I’m in love with –”
“No, no! I heard you the first time, dammit. Just… When? Why?” Kuramochi had a hand on his hips, another rubbing the back of his neck. Miyuki couldn’t really see his expression (goddamned night blindness) but he was nearly positive its pure confusion on that face and he wouldn’t blame Kuramochi really.
Miyuki swallowed, forcing irritation down his throat. He’s got this, he’s still in control of the situation, he could and would last till this whole accursed thing was over and done with. “It doesn’t matter,” he was a little harsher than he’d intended in his haste. “Just reject me already so we can both move on with our lives.”
Kuramochi frowned at that. “Why are you so sure I’d reject you?”
“Because?” Miyuki gestured at the both of them, as though it explained everything. Which it did. “Us? For starters, we’re both guys. And you don’t even like me.” There. He went and said it for Kuramochi. Miyuki probably deserved an Oscar for managing to keep a blank face to this point. Yet Kuramochi only sighed and stepped closer, completely invading Miyuki’s personal space, arms on the door, either side of Miyuki, trapping him. It would’ve been a perfect wall slam if Miyuki wasn’t the one looking down at Kuramochi.
“Miyuki.” Kuramochi drawled his name softly, wetting his lips when he found that it was dry. It was tempting, and Miyuki focused his eyes elsewhere, like Kuramochi’s eyes. Not that it was any better. “Since when did I say I didn’t like you?”
“Just about every day, actually,” Miyuki deadpanned.
Kuramochi groaned at that. “Only because that’s what we do! It doesn’t mean I really hate you, you know? Heck, if I had to choose, I’d probably say I like you!”
Now it was Miyuki’s turn to be on the receiving end of shock. “You’re lying,” he shot back in reflex, because there was no way –
“I wish, dammit!” Kuramochi snapped. “But guess what? I’m a hundred percent serious! Even though it’s from a bastard like you, and this could even be some type of prank knowing you, but shit, I can’t bring myself to just reject you.” The unspoken not yet hung in the air, but at the moment Miyuki didn’t really care; he was too busy trying to process Kuramochi’s words. Seeing Miyuki’s expression, Kuramochi huffed.
“Huh?” Miyuki said unintelligently.
“Give me a little time to think about this, okay? I don’t want to answer when I’m unsure in case I say something I’ll regret. Good night,” Kuramochi added as a mutter before strolling away.
Miyuki slept in the next day. Rather, he only managed to fall asleep after the sun had risen. He’d been up the whole night, analysing whatever Kuramochi’s words might had meant. He came up with one answer, and only one answer – he meant it exactly as he said. Which led to the next question – why?
“Ugh…” He sat up in bed, ruffling his hair and reaching for his glasses, willing those thoughts to go away. It was already noon, and he was glad he took up on Kataoka’s offer of “resting whenever he felt like it”, because he really needed a break. Without changing out of his pyjamas, Miyuki headed for the dining hall, stomach growling as it wasn’t used to skipping a meal. And the moment he sat, ready to dig in, the doors burst open and the club members strolled in for lunch. Of course, that included Kuramochi. Well, just great.
“Ah, isn’t that Miyuki?! Lucky bastard, got to sleep in… Look at him, still in his damned pyjamas!” Miyuki managed a smirk at his fellow second year. He had simply been too lazy to change; what for if he couldn’t even practice?
A tray settled next to him and Miyuki turned – Sawamura took the chance to place a hand on his forehead, another on his own.
“And just what do you think you’re doing, Bakamura?” Miyuki wondered in amusement.
“Miyuki-senpai! Are you sick?! You didn’t come bother me in the bullpen today, and it was weird down to a T!”
Miyuki smacked Sawamura’s hand away, rolling his eyes. So much for solace. “I’m injured, remember? What, I stay away for once and you miss me?” At that Sawamura flushed and he sat nosily, clapping his hands together before his meal as Furuya and the younger Kominato joined the table as well.
“No, of course not! I was just thinking perhaps you forgot you’re supposed to look for Chris-senpai today!”
Oh, yeah. Miyuki had forgotten.
“Of course I haven’t! I just decided I deserve a little break, which I do, considering how I usually look over your brats every day.” Miyuki poked at Sawamura for emphasis, and the latter scowled, leaning away to avoid the strong catcher’s fingers, whose pokes hurt more than they tickle.
Miyuki froze at Kuramochi’s voice two tables down, and turned slowly. “Yes?”
“If you’re going over to Chris-senpai’s later, I’m going too. I needed to check something with him.”
Kuramochi’s eyes said he had something else in mind, Miyuki knowing what that something else was, but he nodded anyway. “Okay.”
The Seido team, who had all but stopped midst chewing to watch the brief exchange, begun to murmur within their circles.
“What was that?”
“Did Miyuki just talk without a snarky remark?!”
“Rather, did those two just exchange a normal conversation…?”
Miyuki tried his best not to roll his eyes. Just because he was temporarily stripped off his captain position… Honestly. He’d have to re-plan the schedule for the team after he’s fully recovered and back on board. Later. After he gets rejected. Which would be soon. He gobbled down his meal, so quick he almost choked, but he didn’t, and he stood.
“Thank you for the meal.” Then Miyuki was heading for the door.
“Oh –” He turned to Kuramochi almost as an after thought. “I’ll go ahead first, ‘Mochi. You can come after practice.” And he was out of the door, heart thumping loudly against chest.
God, that was not good for his heart. Was that a hint that Kuramochi’s sorted it all out? Ready to reject Miyuki? Why did Miyuki even bother staying up to ponder the meaning behind Kuramochi’s words, anyway? It was obvious it’d come down to this.
“Miyuki? Are you okay? You’ve been spacing out…”
Miyuki shook his head frantically. “No, of course not, Chris-senpai –”
“Then, can you repeat what I just said?”
“Oh. Um.” Miyuki shot Chris an apologetic look. The senior was taking time from his rehab to help Miyuki with his; the least he could do was to pay attention when he was speaking.
Chris only smiled gently as he always did, taking a seat next to Miyuki on the bench. “Did something happen with Kuramochi?”
He hummed when Miyuki jumped at the mention of Kuramochi, smile widening. He waited patiently for Miyuki to speak when he felt ready to, and the latter couldn’t help wondering for the millionth time when will he ever become someone great like Chris. He was the first to realise Miyuki’s feelings, and had become his consultant ever since (though Chris did get his fair share of teasing out of it; people rarely saw the flustered side of Miyuki, after all).
Miyuki waited, but Chris said nothing, silently beckoning Miyuki to “go on”. He sucked in a deep breath, and told him everything that happened.
“I see… So now you’re waiting for Kuramochi’s reply?”
Miyuki nodded, hands kneaded together to prevent him from shivering. He tried for a light laugh, but failed miserably. “More like waiting for his rejection, really.”
Chris raised an eyebrow at that. “Well, I wouldn’t be so sure of that, if I were you.”
Miyuki rolled his eyes in mock annoyance – hardly anyone could get mad at Chris when he has the appearance of an angel (though Miyuki suspects his personality’s actually even darker than his own in his core). “Chris-senpai, everyone’s seen the way Kuramochi looks at Ryo-san.” At that Chris simply gave another light hum, as though he knew something Miyuki didn’t, and the latter muttered something under his breath before he walked away.
It was half past ten when Miyuki’s phone vibrated – he had been reading the assigned pages for tomorrow’s class.
A message from Kuramochi.
Title: Why didnt you wait for me?!?!
HEY, miyuki you asshole! i told i would be going over, didnt i?! why didnt u wait for me?!!
“Because you didn’t told me to,” Miyuki muttered as he prepared to toss his phone, now a distraction, on his bed without replying. Then it vibrated again.
ALSO SINCE WHEN DID I SAY I LIKE RYO-SAN U ASSHOLE STOP JUMPING TO CONCLUSIONS 凸(｀△´＋）
This time Miyuki did throw his phone. Hard. It landed on his bed with a thump. Chris-senpaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…!
Another two in swift succession.
Five seconds interval before a fourth knock, much louder than the previous three. Even in subconsciousness Miyuki could tell it was Kuramochi knocking, and he cursed himself for that.
Miyuki peeked out from under his blanket when he figured Kuramochi would be there until he opened the door and – heck, it was still dark. He flipped his phone open to check the time. It was nearly five in the morning.
In other words, it wasn’t even five in the morning yet.
Grabbing his glasses, Miyuki flung the door open, letting the low blood pressure side of him do the work.
“Goddammit, Mochi. What is it this time? It’s friggin’ five –”
Kuramochi didn’t so much as stand and wait than to pull Miyuki out of his own damned room, shutting the door behind him so they were both under that godforsaken flickering light. Miyuki couldn’t see, not much, anyway, but he could faintly tell from the sound of breathing that Kuramochi was standing way too close. That his hand was wrapped about his wrist.
“Listen, Miyuki. I’ve been up whole night thinking, and I’m so annoyed and sleep deprived that I finally decided, against my better judgement, to come because I’ve decided this is fucking important.” Kuramochi tugged on Miyuki’s wrist. He didn’t budge an inch, and Kuramochi clicked his tongue, tugging again, slightly rougher. “Come with me.”
Still half awake, Miyuki nodded an okay. Hopefully that sufficed, because he was still seeing stars. Thankfully, Kuramochi got the message, and Miyuki let himself be gently tugged along.
They walked in silence for a while, and somewhere along the way the hand around Miyuki’s wrist had slid down to his palm and their fingers were now entwined. Tightly. Very tightly. Miyuki was wide awake by then (of course he was, how could he not be?) but he kept his head hung. He liked holding Kuramochi’s hand, and for all he may know, this would most likely be the last time, and foolish as it sounded to Miyuki, he wanted it to last.
And, as it was meant to be, for all good times come to an end, Kuramochi let go of Miyuki’s hand, taking three steps away, back turned.
He gave no answer, which was seemingly fine by Kuramochi, because he went on.
“You’re a fucking asshole. You know that, right?”
Miyuki snorted then. Yeah. If I didn’t, now I do. Thanks for your input, Mochi.
“Your personality sucks too. You tease people too much. You manipulate them too much. And you’re also bad with serious stuff -- c’mon, we all know you’re struggling as the captain.”
Is this to make me numb for the rejection? I swear -- Miyuki lifted his head then, ready to tell Kuramochi to just say it, but he wasn’t given the chance.
“Also, you over think too much and over analyse every fucking thing. Like seriously; since when did I say I liked Ryo-san? Sure, I’m bi. Sure, I admire him, but heck, I don’t like him, dammit!” Kuramochi’s eyes were fierce as they met Miyuki’s, and somewhere in his speech he’d brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck, a clear sign of frustration.
Miyuki was not amused. He folded his arms and stared at Kuramochi with as much disinterest he could muster. “Did you call me out at five in the morning just to torment me? This is what you spent the whole night thinking? Seriously, Mochi?”
“Yes.” Kuramochi made a frustrated noise when Miyuki raised a brow in amusement (not). “Of course not, you fucker. What I mean is -- is --”
Is what? Miyuki challenged with his posture.
“Despite all that -- despite you being the shittiest person I’ve ever known, you’re also one of the best. The strongest. And -- and I like that part of you. Heck, I probably like every part of you, including the sadistic, asshat, cowardly parts of you. I’m also probably the only one who is capable of something like that.”
Miyuki couldn’t believe what he was hearing -- couldn’t believe his eyes that took in the sight of a flushed Kuramochi down to the very tip of his ears as he tried to absorb the next words.
“I like you too, Miyuki. Soyeahlet’sdate.”
Miyuki felt himself deflate under Kuramochi’s gaze. His mouth was wide open, yet there was no sound emitted. How could he find any words? This was the complete opposite of what Miyuki had been preparing himself for. Rejection, yes, he could handle (albeit likely with unforeseen difficulties), but this?
“--Err...” What on earth am I to say? Miyuki raked a hand through his hair, hoping to, again, stall for some time as his mind raced with all the possibilities that would’ve led them to where they were. Perhaps this was to make fun of Miyuki later? No, even Kuramochi wouldn’t do something like that... A dare? No, the team hadn’t been playing that game recently. So, that left one reason.
“Mochi -- If this is for the sake of the team, then --”
“Oh, for the love of all the fucking lovers out there!” Two pair of hands grabbed Miyuki by his hair and he was brought down for a headbutt and fuck did it hurt. Before Miyuki could utter a protest, however, he was pulled into a hug, and he found his face buried in Kuramochi’s neck.
“Did I mention that you friggin’ over think too much? Why the hell would I sacrifice my goddamned future for the team?! You’re not even that weak to begin with; if you were, you never would’ve been chosen as captain, you idiot. When I say I like you, it means I. Like. You. Understand?!”
Miyuki swallowed. “Yes.”
“Good.” Kuramochi visibly relaxed at Miyuki’s answer, and he let himself just melt into the hug, occasionally nuzzling into his neck. When Kuramochi yawned, Miyuki could see the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Damn, now that that’s over, I’m tired.”
Miyuki gave a short hum, content with the situation and not wanting to destroy the moment. Still, this was Miyuki, and it didn’t take long for his cheeky personality to resurface and he dared a lick against Kuramochi’s skin, smirking when the boy shivered and pulled away.
“What was that for?!”
Seeing Kuramochi’s flushed state had Miyuki’s smirk widening. “Boyfriend’s privilege.”
Whistling, he turned to head towards the dorm. The sun was rising, but they still had another good hour of sleep before practice. Miyuki decided he’d be nice today, which meant flexible schedules depending on what the players wanted. He was in a good mood, after all --
Miyuki felt a slap against his rear and was so close to shrieking, which, thankfully, he didn’t. Embarrassed, he turned to glare at a smug Kuramochi, demanding an explanation.
“Boyfriend’s privilege, right?” And then he planted a kiss on Miyuki’s lips, taking in fully the shocked expression on his face.
“Kyaha! Maybe this boyfriend thing wouldn’t be so bad, after all!”
Not for the first time, Miyuki wondered just who was unlucky to have fallen for who...