Zacharie always found baseball an interesting sport to watch; the dirt being upheavaled with every step, crowds cheering or booing as one of the teams managed to get a point, the lean men racing around the field in an attempt to get a point. It was a good pass time.
The masked menace never sat in the bleachers though, always under a great oak that was in view of the field. It was always shaded nicely and he could do homework whilst watching. I mean, it wasn't at all big league baseball, but it was nice.
Lately, Zacharie had his attention drawn to this one player, who he assumed his name was "Batter" from the yelling the coach made that the little frenchie could barely hear over the chatter the fans made. The tall and expressionless figure would make the ball soar over the field with out much effort. He had gotten more homeruns than Zaharie could count on his fingers. "Un, deux, trois..." He mumbled. "Trois times that dear Batter has made a homerun this game." His eyes wavered over the male, taking in everything from those long legs making a sprint for the next base to the occasional shift in expression when something happened that caused a reaction. He assured himself that it wasn't a crush, merely a interest that he wished to study.
The last play was made and of course, the team Batter was on remained undefeated, victorious laughs and yelling beaming from the group of champions. Except Batter. Everytime they won, Batter only had a slight shift from a unexpressionless mood to a slight smile. Zaharie could barely take notice of their expressions due to the distance, but that was fine.
Batter had noticed the french student off by the tree, glancing every now and again. While it was odd that he was wearing a sweater in this heat, let alone him wearing those fucking masks he always wore, he managed to shrug it off. I mean, who was he to question the strange fellow?
Batter always sat in the back, right corner, next to the window. Alone. With no one next him. The seats were arranged in rows, two desks per row; no one dared sit next to the intimidating male in fear of being bashed in.
Except Zacharie. He sat just right down, slinging his backpack with an assortment of random crap onto the floor beside him that he always normally had as well. He managed to get some money every now and again through selling whatever he found.
Batter didn't react much, but his mouth twitched and his gaze shifted to the masked boy. Sighing quietly, his gaze shifted to the desk as he nearly heard a breath being taken in by Zacharie before he spoke. Batter would try to ignore Zacharie, no matter how much the smaller one egged on.
"Hello, mon cher. How are you, dear Batter?" Zacharie asked, inventively waiting for a response. Nothing came from the lean male, his hands fiddling with a pencil. "Hm. Not a man of many words, I see. Well that's fine, mon cher."
Wait a second. "How do you know my name?" Batter asked, the shadow of his hat hiding his eyes. Shit, so much for ignoring the masked boy.
"Heard it being called during the game, I suppose." Zacharie responded, a slight purr rumbling in his throat and seeping into his tone. "Suits a lean guy like you."
Batter narrowed his eyes a bit, then brushed it off. It was a valid response, he guessed. Not the weirdest thing about the pipsqueak in all honesty.
"Hm?" The Batter querked an eyebrow up, though I wasn't all that seen.
"Mon nom. My name. Mon nom est Zacharie. "
The baseball player made a small noise in recognition, nodding once. He hoped "Zacharie" would possibly lose interest by the next class they were in together.
Then the current class started.
Mostly boring, but Zacharie found himself staring at Batter from the corner of his eyes. I mean, his mask hid the fact that he was staring at the baseball player at least. During class he didn't pay attention to the teacher at all, and instead just took notice of Batter's sharp nose, defined jawline that melted into a smooth neck, stern lips; the features were engraved into his memory. Zacharie almost let out a slight purr at one point from the, in his opinion, luxurious sight, but stopped himself from doing so.
It wasn't until the end of class when he said farewell to Batter, to which he earned a nod, and was apart from him, that he realized.
Zacharie had very well more than a little interest in his athletic companion.
Psh. Whatever. He rolled his eyes at the thought; him, having a crush on Batter? He had just met him too, so it possibly couldn't be that he liked his dear pal like that.
Zacharie assured himself that he was in fact, not gay.