Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eijun heaves a sigh as his feet finally reach the top of the stairway, body swaying a little due to the weight of his 60L carrier bag on his back, a duffel bag on his right hand and a guitar case on the other. He’s alone, he realizes, as his eyes scan the noiseless vicinity of his new three-stories apartment building. That means there’s no one around who can lend a hand for him, which is something he’d greatly appreciate right now.

That being said, it’s quite an irrational wish, actually, since it’s already past curfew. People are expected to get all cozy inside their apartments, and even if they are outside, Eijun doubts that they’ll help him gratuitously.

Still, it’s such a nice thought. His room is at the farthest corner of the hallway, and he’s dead tired; despite his friends’ claim about him having a limitless bundle of energy, he has his limits too.

This whole day is exceptionally grueling—for some holy reasons (more like, getting carried away with the joy of procrastination) he had only started to pack his things from his college dorm today, clearly expecting that it’d be a quick work. Boy, was he wrong. He might have moved into the dorm with his most minimalist possessions, but after one year living there, he didn’t realize that there are so many additional things he’d bought, mainly for academic purposes.

It doesn’t help that today is 1) the due date of his university housing contract, and 2) the day of his night shift for his part-time job in 7-Eleven.

And that leads to his current predicament.

Inwardly grumbling, Eijun forces himself to drag his feet to his apartment which is probably only fifty steps away—or maybe not, since it’s a calculation that is produced from his currently foggy brain. His stiff tendons are screaming, but he pays no mind—this is supposed to be nothing compared to the hellish baseball practice in his high school days.

He pretends to forget that he hasn’t played baseball in a long time, let alone running during the shy of dawn like he used to.

(Excuse you, he still goes to the gym sometimes.)

For a second, he mulls over letting out a war cry like his favorite manga protagonist before storming off to his goal to end his suffering right away, but he shakes that thought away when he hears footsteps from behind.

Eijun turns his head, spotting a bespectacled young man, possibly around his age, but taller. Eijun can make out his bleary eyes, although they’re a bit hidden behind his specs which lenses are reflecting the dim lighting overhead. He puts on a pocker face, but the corner of his lips twitches.

“Excuse me,” his smooth, velvety voice greets Eijun’s ear. It holds a tone of amusement mixed with exhaustion. “Can you move with those bags?”

The stranger’s words sounds awfully like a conversation-opener to offer some help for Eijun. Trying to earn more empathy, Eijun shows him his best puppy-face – the one that usually renders his friends to comply, albeit the more he uses it, the less it gets effective. Using it to a complete stranger might work wonders. “Thank you for your generosity – “

“I said, can you move?” The stranger repeats, this time more impatiently.

“Uh.. kinda?” Eijun replies in confusion, shifting his position aside as if to prove himself.

“Good, because you’re blocking the way,” the stranger smirks, proceeding to walk ahead of Eijun with a dismissive wave of his hand. He stops right beside Eijun’s room, and casts one final glance at Eijun’s dumbfounded face. “Night.”

He shuts his door, just like that, leaving Eijun alone again.

The sophomore’s blood boil in rage, glaring at his neighbor’s door so hard it would melt down the wooden material if he had some kind of laser vision. What the hell, he thinks with ire. What a fraud! I thought he was going to help me! Stupid four-eyed bastard!

His fatigue seems to dissipate in the middle of his internal hatred speech towards his new neighbor, as his newfound strength finally brings him in front of his apartment. He fumbles with his keys, letting out an air of relief when he’s faced with the decent interior of his new apartment. It’s a blessing that he managed to rent a fully-furnished one, perfect for a struggling college student like him. Besides, it’s not like he’s going to live here forever; there’s no point for him to install his own furnitures.

He steps inside, dropping his bags gently—especially his guitar case, relishing in the view before him. It’s a studio-sized, but spacious enough to have a small kitchen, and a round, low kotatsu, completed with a set of zabutons. The bathroom is narrow, yet the ivory-colored tiles make it looks clean and neat. His bed is fit for two people, located beside the sliding glass door, leading to the balcony.

Ah, yes, the bed—one of the most essential things Eijun need in his life. Not bothering to change his clothes, he jumps onto it, testing its capability for Eijun’s... stress-relieving activities in the future.

“I should invite Narumiya-senpai here later,” he muses to himself, stretching his limbs comfortably. That can be arranged later, he adds as an afterthought as he stares at the white ceiling above. For now, he wants to enjoy the serenity his new place provides, which he rarely gets to experience, even when he lived with his taciturn roommate in the dorm.

It’s calming—refreshing. This feels like freedom. This is what he’s been wishing ever since he was confined inside a Japanese-style residential building back in Nagano, which most people refer as his home.

Eijun scoffs. What home? It’s never a home for him. It’s a jail—trapping his own fragile sanity alongside the constant booming voice of his father and the choked wails of his mother. And all he could do was to watch, to hear; if he was lucky, Wakana’s parents would ask him to have a sleepover, but of course nice things don’t last long.

Eijun exhales as bitterness suddenly spread on his tongue. He shouldn’t be really thinking about them. He’s right here in Tokyo, living his best life without ever having to worry about hearing his parents’ ear-splitting, yet meaningless arguments anymore. Honestly, even the mere thought of them is doing no good for Eijun’s mental health.

And for the past one and a half year, Eijun’s unhealthy way to ironically deal with his stress is to find a great lay – which is something that Eijun can’t achieve right now, because news flash, as if it’s not obvious enough, Narumiya-senpai isn’t available at the moment.

Eijun was considering to jerk off—a small part of his mind celebrates the fact that no one would be able to interrupt his private moments from now on—but his exhaustion reminds him that perhaps getting a boner should be the last thing he does now.

He should get a shuteye instead.

Feeling his eyelids flutter sleepily, he finally gives in.

It’s 7 in the morning when Eijun wakes up. He’s slightly grateful that his apartment already has a functional wall clock, hanging just across his bed, making it easier for him to recognize how fucked up he is whenever he wakes up later. (It’s not like he’s always late, but... just in case.)

Eyes flicking to the clock once again, his brain registers that he has approximately three hours before his class. The trip from his new apartment to his college takes around 20 minutes, so he has a lot of time to unpack his bags and grab something to eat along the way. Preferably hot chocolate; it’s his morning ritual that’s ought to be fulfilled at least thrice a week.

So he showers (damn, his bathroom is really nice—maybe having shower sex here wouldn’t hurt), places his stuffs albeit a tad messily, changes into a simple shirt and jeans, and exits his beloved apartment. Everything is relatively uneventful, so far.

Except that he’s not lying when he previously said that nothing good ever lasts long.

The moment he spins his body away from his already locked door, his neighbor somehow decides to do the same.

And here they are, facing each other in silence, before Eijun shouts at him vindictively. “Geh! What are you doing here?!”

His neighbor winces at the loud volume, rubbing his ears mockingly. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve lived here before you, brat.”

“I’m not a kid!” Eijun exclaims, cat-eyed, “I bet we’re around the same age, you bastard.”

“Does that mean you’ve been wondering about my age?” the bespectacled bastard smirks—now that Eijun can see him in the broad daylight, he hates to admit that his neighbor is really attractive—and for a fleeting second Eijun doesn’t know whether he wants to punch that smirk with his fist or his mouth.

No, bad Eijun. You’re just frustrated because you haven’t gotten laid for three whole weeks. Don’t take it out on your asshole of a neighbor.

Not wanting to submit himself to the fire his neighbor had ignited—which is a huge feat, because years ago, his middle-school self wouldn’t even hesitate to pick a fight with a man twice his size—Eijun prefers to stomp away from the source of his bad mood since the day he moved in here. He refuses to look back and keeps on doing so as he walks to the train station.

He’s about to sigh in relief before he finally realizes that there are distinct footsteps other than his own from behind. He stops on his heels and turns around, feeling a sudden wave of déjà vu when he sees his neighbor. The difference now is that he almost bumps his body into Eijun.

“What the heck—can you not stop walking so abruptly?” He frowns, stumbling a little.

“WHY ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME?!” Eijun points an accusing finger at his neighbor who immediately widens his eyes in panic, and the next thing he knows, his mouth is being covered by his neighbor’s palm. Eijun shouts even more, this time muffled.

“Mmmnnfhh—!”

“Shut up! You’re so noisy! I’m not gonna kidnap you!” his neighbor hisses in annoyance. “We just happen to walk on the same path, so don’t shout nonsensical things before someone gets the wrong idea!”

Eijun calms down at that, although his eyes are still searching for lies in his neighbor’s words.

Releasing Eijun’s mouth, he sighs exasperatedly, before scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Listen, let’s start over. I’m Miyuki Kazuya, a third year in Todai. There, at least you know that I’m not a serial killer and won’t get my ass arrested.”

Eijun huffs, still eyeing Kazuya warily. Then, he mumbles, casting his gaze on the side road, slightly feeling ashamed of what he’d just done—to a senpai in his own college, nonetheless. “Sawamura Eijun, second year in Todai.”

“See? Not so hard, right?” Kazuya flicks Eijun’s nose with a cheeky grin, earning a swat from Eijun. Kazuya laughs nasally, and Gods it sounds obnoxious. “You look like you’re headed to the campus. Wanna take the train together?”

“What are you planning?” Eijun squints as Kazuya begins to walk beside him rather than behind him like some kind of a stalker.

“Hey now, I can be nice, too, you know.”

“I beg to differ,” Eijun mutters under his breath. He finds it hard to trust the senior beside him, since he has just thisconniving aura around him that Eijun has no choice but to beware of. “You’re just like a tanuki,” he voices his thought out loud. “Are you sure your name isn’t Tanuki Kazuya?” Eijun asks a bit smugly, as if he hadn’t just given a lame, punny insult.

What he doesn’t expect is for Kazuya to bend his body and wheeze wholeheartedly.

“You – “ his body trembles with mirth, “you’re the best, Sawamura!”

“WHAT’S SO FUNNY, MIYUKI KAZUYA?!” Eijun can feel his blood pressure elevates and pulls the collar of Kazuya’s black hoodie to shake him off the ground.

Detaching himself, Kazuya wipes his tear from his eyes. “Man, that was the best laugh I’ve ever had in a while,” he exhales in contentment. Continuing to walk, he attempts another conversation before Eijun can open his mouth to insult him more. “So, what major are you in?”

Eijun perks up at the question. “Communication studies,” he answers, holding the urge to ramble about how he loves his major and all that jazz. Instead, curiosity wins him over. “How about you?”

Kazuya, however, ignores his inquiry and hums, “communication, huh? That explains why you’re unnecessarily so noisy.”

“That’s- how dare you believe in stereotypes, Miyuki Kazuya!” Eijun fumes, “studying communication isn’t only for talkative people, nor does it turn untalkative people into one!!”

Kazuya grins, burying one of his hands into his jean’s pocket when he spots the station’s electronic gate in sight. Fishing out his ticket, he waits for Eijun to do the same all the while avoiding other hurried passengers.

They pass the gate with ease, and Eijun almost forgets that he had asked something to Kazuya if not for his neighbor bringing it up again.

“I’m in the computer science department,” he tells him after they’ve arrived at the correct platform. All of the benches are occupied, Eijun notes, but the station isn’t as crowded as it would during the rush hours. “I pretty much fill the stereotype people attaches to my field of study, don’t you think?”

Eijun gives him a scrutinizing look, nodding a little. “Well, you wear glasses, have a bad fashion sense—no offense, I don’t think you should wear black on black, it’s really boring. Oh, and a nasty personality. I guess you really fit into the nerd category, Miyuki.”

“Oi, oi,” Kazuya sweatdrops at Eijun’s blunt remark. “Where’s the respect that I deserve as your senpai?”

“I think I forgot to add that you’re a shitty senpai, too,” Eijun grouches, head whipping to the sound of the approaching train, which is also swallowing whatever Kazuya plans to say. A breeze caused by the lurching train washes over his face, but not strong enough to mess his shaggy hair.

Thankfully, some seats are vacant, so Eijun unconsciously drags Kazuya down to sit beside him, to which his neighbor teases him for. Of course, Eijun reasons that he did it on a whim and he’s not heartless to let an old man like Kazuya to stand up during the whole ride, even though both of them are aware that it’ll be a fairly short trip.

Eijun is surprised that he kind of enjoys their casual bantering, although that doesn’t make Kazuya’s witty remarks any less aggravating. It’s just—Eijun appreciates the fact that both of them can be blunt and painfully honest, but somehow know that even with the lack of filter, their words won’t actually get into each other.

At least, that’s what Eijun thinks for now. A stubborn part of him still have an ounce of distrust directed at his senior slash neighbor whom he’s known for less than a day.

As soon as they get off from the train, Eijun only bids him farewell as simple as “see you around” rather than “see you later”, because he doesn’t consider that tanuki bastard as a friend and there’s no guarantee for them to meet again regularly, even as neighbors.

(He ends up forgetting to buy his hot chocolate, and throws all the blame at Kazuya inside his mind.)

“So, how’s your new place, Sawamura-senpai?” Akamatsu asks Eijun, nudging his arm to grab his attention. It’s a gesture that Eijun has grown accostumed to, given how short his attention span is sometimes—a trait that is considered as bothersome by some of his friends.

“Eh, not bad,” Eijun shrugs. He’s currently walking leisurely on the pedestrian walk alongside his.. friends? Acquintances? (he likes to call them bar buddies, but that doesn’t matter, since he never shies away from socializing) with arms occasionally brushing and shoulders bumping against one another.

It’s another busy nightlife in Tokyo, the colorful flourescent lights serving as a beautiful, vibrant view. Eijun has always liked city lights, having spending his life as a country boy. There’s just something mesmerizing about them—Eijun’s eyes can even be held captive by the massive, digital billboards hanging on the exterior of the city’s skyscrapers that no one bats an eye to for too long.

Both sex and city lights are addicting, he realizes later. Both meet his personal definition to what a good distraction is. In other words—stress-relievers.

“At least the bed’s gotta be comfy, right?” Mukai grins lewdly, the sexual innuendo behind his words crystal clear to Eijun, to which he barks a laugh at.

“You can only guess,” Eijun sticks his tongue out.

“Well, you can always test it tonight,” Carlos winks, for once covering his upper body with a top. Leveling himself to Eijun’s ears, he adds with a whisper, “too bad Mei can’t come.”

Eijun sighs at that. Carlos is one of the few people who knows about Eijun’s arrangement with Narumiya—other than Eijun’s close friends—and he’s a bit relieved for trusting the information with that stripping maniac. He might not seem like it, for he always fools around, but he can be tight-lipped when he wants to.

“I know,” Eijun replies. “He said he’s been busy.”

“Figures. Business department is filled with a bunch of ambitious kids,” Carlos grins, either at his own words or at the familiar building of their favorite hang out spot just a few walks away.

“What’s with this secretive conversation?” Mukai inquires, disgruntled that he doesn’t get the same treatment.

“We were just wondering about the sexual tension between you and Mei,” Carlos answers mindlessly, fully knowing that Mukai and Narumiya hate each other’s guts too much, all the while being oblivious to their similar prince wannabe attitudes.

“Me? With that piece of shit? Try again,” Mukai growls at Carlos’ taunt, tilts his chin up, and strides into the bar after the automatic glass doors slide open. Eijun can already catch the upbeat bass of a popular pop song blaring from the wall speakers.

Without wasting any time, everyone goes to their respective destinations, and that is Eijun’s cue to mind his business as well. He doesn’t feel like dancing tonight. He needs some booze in his system, and if he’s lucky, a substitute for Narumiya’s absence before he gets blue balls.

He pushes aside the mental image of Haruichi’s crestfallen expression whenever the pink haired young man warns him about sleeping around. Again. He refuses to succumb into the pit of guilt that isn’t supposed to be there in the first place, thanks to his best friend. He loves Haruichi, he really does; but Haruichi is such a worrywart sometimes.

After all, he’s not exactly sleeping around. Not anymore. He has Narumiya-senpai to satisfy his urges—and it’s not like he’s using him, precisely, since it’s a win-win solution for both of them. Other than Narumiya, Eijun rarely has sex with strangers. Unless there’s a case of emergency, he thinks.

And one of those times is now.

The thought of masturbating floats away from his head, for he knows that it won’t be as satisfactory as a real dick up his ass. That, too, besides the fact that Eijun doesn’t have any sex toys—preferably dildos of some sorts.

Oh well, he shrugs, sauntering over a bar stool, purposely sliding beside a particularly hot guy who is luckily alone at the moment. Eijun is well aware of his own charms, contrary to popular beliefs. So he sends a friendly, if not slightly coy grin to the guy beside him, testing the waters whether he’s interested or not.

And when the guy reciprocates with his own flirtatious smile, Eijun just knows he’s going to finally get laid tonight.

Kazuya sips on his black coffee which is almost as cold as the temperature of his apartment. He’s not at fault here; coffees can’t be enjoyed by chugging it all in one go—sipping it truly enhances the flavor, making it more savory on Kazuya’s taste buds.

Or maybe that’s just an excuse—because in actuality, he’s concentrating on his assignment so much he almost forgets he’s made a cup of coffee beforehand.

He continues to press his fingertips against the keyboard of his laptop in a swift, practiced motion—a result of familiarizing himself with the world of technology for years. The pitter-patter of the mechanical rain replaces the quietness of his bedroom once again. Then, Kazuya stops for a while, either to crack his knuckles, stretch his taut muscles, rub his tired eyes, or reach for the mug that is placed on his nightstand.

He’s sitting on the bed as well as leaning against the headboard to support himself, cross-legged with his laptop perched on top of a pile of books so that Kazuya won’t have to slouch so much in order to see the screen.

This assignment requires a fast and strong internet connection, hence why he chooses the night time to do this—and thankfully, he’s almost done. Just a few more mental calculations; something that Kazuya is usually good at, but with how his sleep-deprived brain is currently teetering on the brink of exploding into a pool of goos, he honestly doubts if he can finish this perfectly.

Kazuya’s always been a bit of a perfectionist, and he can’t risk his professor to point out frivolous, minuscule mistakes on his assignment just because he fails to solve a simple calculus.

That being the case, Kazuya supposes he should call it a night. After all, he still has two days left before the actual deadline.

After a quick tidy-up session, he throws his body onto his mattress, ready to lull himself to sleep.

Until there’s a loud bang.

Kazuya’s eyes snap open against his will when he hears a door being slammed against the wall, probably coming from his new noisy neighbor.

And noisy he is, indeed, even in the middle of the night where people are supposed to take some peaceful rest before having to face the harsh reality again in the next morning. Although, this time, it seems to be a different kind of noisy. The suggestive guttural groans and filthy moans are enough giveaways for Kazuya to incredulously realize what kind of activity Eijun is doing right now.

Moreover, the more it drags on, the noises are unforgivingly becoming louder—Kazuya can make out the rough slaps of skin-to-skin contact, complemented by the rhythmical thumping of a bed’s wooden headboard against their cursed, thin wall.

What the fuck, Kazuya gnashes his teeth in annoyance. Just how thin is the fucking wall? 

To be honest, Kazuya doesn’t even care if his neighbor is having sex in his own apartment. Yes, even someone like Eijun whose face looks too innocent and cute for his age. He can fuck—or be fucked, whatever, Kazuya doesn’t want to continue that train of thought—anytime he wants.

Anytime but now, because Kazuya needs to sleep.

The thing is, if Kazuya can’t manage to doze off, he usually ends up pulling an all-nighter to force himself to finish his assignments, thanks to the caffeine flowing inside his blood, but obviously, the same thing can’t be applied right now.

Working on some complicated programming while hearing the sounds of pleasure from his neighbor is not on Kazuya’s to-do-list tonight.

Snatching an unused pillow from beside him, Kazuya shifts his position so that he’s lying on his right side and covers his left ear with the pillow. It doesn’t cancel all the noises effectively, but at least, there’s an attempt. A futile one.

Soon, he drifts off to a restless slumber.

“What, did a tornado hit your place last night? Hyahaha!”

Kazuya grunts grumpily, not in the mood for Kuramochi’s joke. He lets his head fall onto the hard, wooden surface of the table. Ryousuke snickers at that, bending one of his arms on the same table to support his chin.

“Rough night?” he asks, sickeningly sweet, albeit it sounds more like a statement. His expression is passable enough to be called neutral, but there’s a hint of amusement there.

Damn psychology students.

Kazuya sighs, and mumbles. “I didn’t get enough sleep because of... someone.”

“I assume that someone was the neighbor?” Ryousuke asks again, making Kazuya a bit scared at how accurate his guess is. “And no, I’m not a mind reader. Youichi told me that you finally have a first real neighbor since you moved there, or am I wrong?”

“Ahaha, well, you can say that,” Kazuya sweats, laughing dryly. It’s true. The moment he moved into his place, his other neighbor coincidentally moved out, resulting in him living between two vacant, unrented apartments.

Apparently, Eijun is his so-called ‘first real neighbor’, and Kazuya doesn’t know whether to be grateful about that fact or not.

Speak of the devil, and he doth appear.

Lifting his head from the table, he suddenly catches Eijun among a dozen of students in the lounge hall, chatting animatedly with a pink haired young man. His neighbor is wearing a black tee, layered with an unbuttoned yellow plaid shirt, and he’s sporting a skinny-fit white jeans below. Kazuya almost snorts—he wears such an eye-catching, bright-colored clothing, for someone who had the audacity to judge Kazuya’s preference for dark-colored ones.

“Oi, Sawamura!” much to Kazuya’s surprise—what’s worse than Kuramochi and Eijun knowing each other? As if Kazuya can afford getting more headache—Kuramochi calls him out, cupping one of his hands around his mouth. Eijun whips his head to the source of the sound, golden eyes lighting up in recognition.

Just like an excited dog, Kazuya absentmindedly muses.

“Kuramochi-senpai!!” his neighbor smiles widely, followed by his pink haired friend who, in a closer proximity, looks painfully a lot like Ryousuke. “Fancy meeting you he—huh? Miyuki Kazuya?!”

Kazuya responds lazily. “Oh, it’s Mr. Loud-As-Hell-During-Sex.”

At his words, Ryousuke’s smile widens, Kuramochi chokes on empty air, and Eijun’s pink haired friend frowns.

“H-how did you know?” Eijun gasps, face turning blue. “You were eavesdropping, weren’t you, Miyuki Kazuya!”

“First of all, I’m not interested in any forms of voyeurism, even the one without any visual medium,” Kazuya replies calmly. “Second of all, have you ever considered that our apartments have thin walls, Sawamura?”

Without letting Eijun to open his mouth to protest, the pink haired young man beside him speaks.

“Eijun-kun,” he begins in a scolding tone. “I thought we’ve talked about this.”

“Now, Haruichi,” Ryousuke interjects. “Let him have a say in this.”

Eijun looks upset, throwing a dirty look towards Kazuya for a split second, before he juts out his lower lip and folds both of his arms across his chest. “Stop babysitting me. It was just a one-night thingy.”

Kazuya arches an elegant eyebrow at the childish display in front of him. This is the same man who had moaned lewdly to the point it disturbed Kazuya’s sleep. Unbelievable. His mention of ‘one-night thingy’ means that it was a fucking one-night stand, and based on other’s reactions, that probably wouldn’t be the last time for Eijun to bring people into his apartment again.

Just his luck, he thinks in despair, a bit miffed at the possibility of losing his sleep again in the future thanks to Eijun’s active sex life.

“That’s not the point, and you know that,” the pink haired young man—Haruichi—says patiently.

“Ugh, not now, please, Harucchi?” Eijun pleads, glancing at Ryousuke’s raised hand in fear, “Nii-san, don’t karate chop me, too!”

“Aniki doesn’t mean harm,” Haruichi rolls his eyes, but then sighing in defeat. Hearing how Haruichi addresses Ryousuke, Kazuya widens his eyes slightly due to the discovery that they’re brothers. “Fine, I’ll scold you later, Eijun-kun.”

“Anyway!” Kuramochi says with a loud voice, seemingly peeved at the fact that he’s gotten ignored for a while. “I didn’t call you here to hear you getting scolded! We’re lacking one more pitcher for a casual baseball match tomorrow. What do you say, Bakamura?”

“I’m in!” Eijun decides less than three seconds, beaming excitedly. “Will Spitz-senpai, Chris-senpai and the others be there too? Aren’t they busy with work or something?”

“Luckily most are able to make it,” Kuramochi returns an equally eager grin to his kouhai. “Hyahaha! That’s decided then. Don’t be late, moron. Why don’t you go together with Miyuki, now that I know both of you are neighbors?”

“Why would I go with him?” Eijun complains, cat-eyed, while pointing rudely at Kazuya, who is still processing the fact that Eijun is a pitcher, and seems to know Kuramochi’s circle of friends, too.

“He’s gonna join us tomorrow, duh,” Kuramochi deadpans. “He’s the catcher.”

“Be good and don’t pick a fight with your neighbor, hm?” Ryousuke says, interlacing his fingers in front of him calmly, although they all know that there’s a hidden threat behind his sweetly-spoken words.

“Y-Yes, Nii-san!” Eijun gives a military salute.

“That goes to you too, Miyuki,” Ryousuke adds, before Kazuya can cackle at Eijun’s misery. That effectively deters Kazuya from saying anything at all. Then, the psychology student rises up to his feet, grabbing his bag alongside a thin stack of paper files. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with one of my professors.”

After giving Kuramochi a quick peck on the cheek, leaving his boyfriend in a blushing state, he wordlessly scurries away from the lounge hall.

“I have to go, too, You-san—and Miyuki-san, is it?” Haruichi offers a polite smile, particularly at Kazuya, to which the catcher nods in confirmation.

“Ah! Won’t the greatest future politician Kominato Haruhiko say his good bye to this Sawamura Eijun, too?!” Eijun dramatically cries with fake tears cascading down his cheeks.

Haruichi only rolls his eyes, ignoring Eijun and walks away in a similar fashion with his brother. As expected from the Kominato bloodline.

“Just because he studies politics, doesn’t mean he’s gonna be a politician, Bakamura!” Kuramochi growls, pulling Eijun for a headlock. The pitcher chokes out something along the lines of I give! I give! A future rock star shall not practice wrestling moves—ack! to which Kuramochi replies in irritation with how many times do I have to remind you that I’m in the fucking art department, dumbass?!

Kazuya only chortles and enjoys the show being put on in front of him, resulting in Eijun whipping his head towards his direction.

“DON’T LAUGH, MIYUKI KAZUYA!!!”

To say Eijun is ecstatic is an understatement.

The last time he properly played baseball in an unofficial match was months ago, when his friends and seniors weren’t occupied with internships, thesis preparations or basically, everything else. During their busy months, everyone was too tired to even have a short game, and Eijun didn’t bother to find new people to play with. He might have said that he’s not opposed to hang out with anyone, but truthfully, he can only enjoy the sport with the people he’s close with as his teammates. After all, he’s not trying to pursue baseball as a career, where professional athletes are expected to be ready to play with anyone, whether they like it or not, seeing how often their teammates change each season.

The thought of playing again after a long time is making Eijun practically bouncing on his heels and humming a random song, albeit off-key, while locking the door to his apartment. He’s only carrying a sling bag, stuffed with his old mitt, gloves and a spare baseball.

He turns away from the door, a smile still etched on his lips, but then Kazuya appears before his vision, leaning on his own closed door.

“MIYUKI KAZUYA?!”

“Stop shouting my full name!” Kazuya chastises him with a hush, looking around hastily to see if anyone is around.

“I can do whatever I want!” Eijun retorts heatedly.

When Kazuya’s gaze is back at Eijun again, this time he smirks, lowering his eyelids and wiggling his eyebrows. “If you’re so adamant on screaming my name, you can save that when you’re on my bed – “

“Shut up, you perverted tanuki!” Flushing, Eijun whacked his neighbor’s arms, and is surprised to feel how firm and strong it is. Kazuya’s navy blue shirt and jeans are doing a terrible job to hide his sinfully good body proportions and muscular figure, but before Eijun can even wonder the view underneath those garments, he alters his focus elsewhere. “What did I say about wearing the same color, Miyuki Kazuya? That navy on navy just won’t do!”

“You really like to patronize my choice of clothing, huh,” Kazuya massages the bridge of his nose, not after sending a judging look to Eijun’s neon green hoodie. “Nevermind that. Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Do I seriously need to spell it out for you?”

“Ugh,” Eijun scrunches his nose up, reluctantly trailing behind Kazuya’s back.

Their walk is engulfed with a comfortable silence—not including their occasional bantering—as Kazuya leads the way. For some reason, they end up walking side-by-side, for Eijun to refuse following Kazuya like a duckling chasing its mother. Kazuya then points out that Eijun is better suited as a dog sprinting behind its owner, to which the pitcher fumes at.

“Were you waiting for me?” Eijun asks later as they stand near several people who are also waiting for the bus’ arrival at the bus stop.

“Not really,” Kazuya shrugs, eyes directed at the frequently passing cars on the street. “I was about to knock on your door, though. I don’t want to get an earful from Kuramochi if you’re really late.”

“Why is it hard to believe that I can be there on time?!”

Kazuya chuckles, and changes the flow of the conversation. “So, how did you know Kuramochi?”

“We played together once,” Eijun says. “We had this unofficial match a while ago, too. Harucchi was the one who invited me.”

“That explains why you’re familiar with Kuramochi’s friends,” Kazuya comments. “You seem to know Chris-senpai.”

“The med student, right? Yeah! He’s my master!” Eijun confirms excitedly, failing to notice Kazuya’s perplexed expression at the casual mention of ‘master’. “There’s also Spitz-senpai—“

“Who?”

“Isashiki-senpai, geez,” Eijun huffs, before continuing his ramble, “turns out he’s a senpai in my department! He’s always with Tetsu-senpai, who’s also Harucchi’s senpai in his department. Small world, right? Have you met Furuya? Can you believe that he’s studying biology just for the polar bears?! Oh, how about Sanada-senpai? The one in the chemistry department? And—“

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to mention them all,” Kazuya raises his palm in front of Eijun’s face to stop him, mainly because other people in the bus stop have been glancing at them in discomfort. Eijun only grins sheepishly. “Aren’t you some kind of.. what do they call it? A social butterfly?”

“I don’t know if I am,” Eijun replies, golden eyes blinking owlishly, annunciating his honesty. “I just like to make friends with the others, is all.” He cocks his head at Kazuya, “do you?”

“I don’t know if I am,” Kazuya smirks, parroting back Eijun’s words, to which the latter scowl at. “No, really. I know the names you’ve mentioned before because I’ve played with them too, but I don’t talk with them a lot.”

“No way! We should all hang out with them later! I know many good bars in this city!” Eijun exclaims exuberantly as he brings his face closer to the catcher, unconsciously invading Kazuya’s personal bubble. The latter immediately turns his head away, pushing Eijun backwards firmly, but not too rough.

“Five-foot rule, idiot,” he utters, slightly thrown off guard.

“Oh, right,” Eijun nods, stepping back, unfazed. “Hey, about the bar – “

“I don’t go to bars, Sawamura,” Kazuya cuts him off, lips pressing into a thin line. “I – “ The catcher pauses, perhaps mentally contemplating the appropiateness of his next words. Eventually, he shakes his head and jabs his thumb towards the street. “Anyway, the bus is already here. Don’t forget about your card, Bakamura.”

True to his words, the looming bus decelerates before stopping completely. They get in line, swipe their cards, and choose their seats, with Eijun claiming the one near the windows.

Kazuya doesn’t talk much during the whole ride, which is odd, since he was being pretty talkative before. Eijun doesn’t comment, however, nor does he pry; months of studying the art of communicating has made the pitcher better at reading the atmosphere of a situation. Though, he’s not on Ryousuke’s level yet when it comes to people reading, so he isn’t sure what to think of Miyuki Kazuya as a person.

Secretive? Closed-off? Eijun ponders, rude? More like, being intentionally rude to cover up his real emotions? He furrows his brows deeper, or maybe he just has a trash personality and I’m reading too much into it?!

The more he thinks about Kazuya, he’s come to a conclusion that he knows nothing about his mysterious neighbor. Just like an enigma waiting to be solved, Eijun has a hunch that there’s more to Kazuya than... this—than the snarky side he always shows for the whole world to see.

That measly likelihood is somehow intriguing and frustrating at the same time, because Eijun has never really met someone as unreadable as Kazuya in his life. And that says a lot, since Eijun knows lots of people.

And that invigorates a strange urge within him to get to know his neighbor better—to unravel the emotions that Kazuya has so meticulously stored deep, inside.

Maybe trying to know him better won’t hurt, Eijun thinks, before he steals a quick gander towards Kazuya, who fortuitously catches him in the middle of the act and quirks one of his eyebrows.

“What? Can’t take your eyes off me?” he teases the pitcher, plastering an infuriating smirk on his face.

Bristling, Eijun retracts all of the semi-nice things he had thought prior about the catcher.

“Your personality is trash, Miyuki Kazuya!”

“Ahaha! Thanks!”

“Wasn’t a compliment, you damned tanuki — “

The baseball field facility Jun had reserved beforehand isn’t difficult to locate. By the time they arrive, they’re five minutes early, but there’s already a small crowd on the sidelines. Kazuya immediately recognizes a few faces, having seen them several times whenever he was out with Kuramochi, but he prefers to call them as acquintances, albeit not directly to their faces. He’s not the type to give away the ‘friend’ label all that easily, except for the people he deems as trustworthy, or the ones who he genuinely likes.

While Eijun has gone somewhere to loudly greet the others, Kazuya’s form of greeting only consists of a quick wave and a faint smile. He manages to hold an idle conversation with Nori, Shirasu, Toujo, and Kanemaru, before he excuses himself to check on his gears. He’s on one of his knees, rummaging through his bag when Chris approaches him.

“It’s been a while, Miyuki,” the med student starts ceremoniously.

“Chris-senpai,” Kazuya acknowledges his presence with a nod. “Are you playing, too?” he inquires regardfully, noticing a mitt peeking out of the half-opened bag slung on Chris’ shoulder.

“I am,” the latter answers, much to Kazuya’s bemusement. This Chris is quite different than the last Chris he encountered; he doesn’t look stiff and there’s a particular twinkle in his eyes Kazuya’s never seen before. He looks fresh and happy.

“That’s good to hear,” Kazuya genuinely says. He knows how Chris was towards baseball—his injury from an accident in high school had made him permanently ineligible from the world of professional baseball. Chris had been avoiding baseball since then. Kazuya doesn’t know what, or who changed him.

“Sawamura,” Chris suddenly speaks again, “I heard that you know him, too.”

Kazuya doesn’t miss the way Chris mentions Eijun’s name in slight adoration. “Yeah, he’s... kind of my neighbor now.”

“I see,” Chris replies tersely, looking at a certain direction. Kazuya follows his line of vision, and isn’t surprised to see Eijun there, engaging in a one-sided argument with a sleepy Furuya. “He told me to play again. Not in the most pleasant way, but it worked.”

“Ah, is that so,” Kazuya utters, unsure what to say. Out of all people who helped Chris, it was Eijun? Perhaps Kazuya should give him more credits than what his appearance suggests; that he’s more than just an idiotic, loud brat as he appears to be.

“He’s quite handful, but he’s a good kid,” Chris tells him again, looking straight at Kazuya as though trying to drill his opinions into Kazuya’s thick skull.

“I’ll.. I’ll keep that in mind, but why are you telling me this?” the four-eyed catcher asks in a genuine puzzlement. Is Chris trying to sell Eijun in front of Kazuya? But for what purpose? Is this some kind of matchmaking scheme Kuramochi has secretly arranged behind his back?

“All I can say is that I owe him,” Chris simply answers. He drops his bag to the ground and begins to pull out his gears. “Also, I’ve seen how you always push people away, Miyuki.”

Kazuya freezes on the spot, almost forgetting that Chris is one of the people who understands Kazuya well enough to judge him, for they’ve known each other since high school—aside from Kuramochi, his former classmate and Mei, his childhood friend.

And the reason why Kazuya has let them into his walls is because of their tendencies to be persistent and stubborn—no matter how much Kazuya pushes them away, they’d bounce and come back like nothing has ever happened.

Kazuya supposes that he’s sometimes grateful that he has them in his life.

But, the fact that Chris willingly goes out of his way to involve himself into a hypothetical situation is alarming—concerning.

Chris is implying that Kazuya’s going to push Eijun away, even when there’s currently nothing going on between them.

“You’re trying to protect Sawamura from me,” Kazuya chuckles, in lieu of getting offended by Chris’ implication, he finds it funny. Funny, at how the older man assumes that Kazuya and Eijun would become inseparable best friends of some sorts.

“I didn’t say that,” Chris retorts calmly, “I’m just saying something that would probably benefit both of you.”

He doesn’t outrightly deny Kazuya’s words, nor does he exactly tell what’s on his mind, either.

Fine, if Chris is going to stay in this dizzying circumlocution, Kazuya would rather move forward.

When Kuramochi calls for both of them, apparently to split the teams or something—Kazuya doesn’t really care, he just wants to play—the topic of Sawamura is thankfully dropped.

“Miyuki Kazuya! We’re on the same team!” soon enough, out of nowhere, Eijun jogs towards Kazuya, who’s already adorned with a complete set of his gears. His team is going to open the match with Eijun as the starting pitcher.

“Yes, yes,” Kazuya waves him off, already feeling tired even before the match is started.

“Can you at least act more interested?!”

“Can you at least lower your voice?”

“Oi, ‘Wamura! Hurry up and get on the mound!” Kanemaru shouts impatiently, both hands on his hips in a chiding manner, to which Eijun yells back an ‘Aye!’

As they’re running towards the center of the field, Kazuya’s steps falter a bit. “Wait, we haven’t even discussed the signs,” he reminds Eijun with a frown. The pitcher, however, stops entirely on his track.

“You’re right!” he eagerly acquiesces. For the umpteenth time of the day, he shouts again to inform their teammates about ‘the importance of forming a strategy between a battery.’

After agreeing to some simple signs, the game goes on smoothly, although Kazuya tries hard not to show his astonishment the moment Eijun throws his pitch—blazing golden eyes, flexible leg rearing up so gracefully, so high it defies gravity, arm bends over in a way it disappears from his sight, and a perfect, idiosyncratic fastball hitting his mitt with a satisfying smack.

And somehow, Kazuya ends up noticing Eijun more than he usually does; like the way he’s always surrounded by so many people; never alone, never stop laughing. Always so open to physical affections, be it receiving some head ruffles from Kuramochi after a strike out, or giving a comforting side-hug to Haruichi when he fails to steal a base. Always so bright and energized in a way Kazuya would never be.

Kazuya has only known Eijun for less than a week, yet, the sophomore has probably shown his whole self to Kazuya, for he practically wears his heart on his sleeve. Again, something that Miyuki Kazuya would never do.

It’s decided then, Kazuya thinks, even when he playfully taps his mitt against Eijun’s chest, praises him, teases him, and calls him his partner. He ignores how Eijun’s eyes flashes with an indisputable gleam of glee afterwards. He deliberately prolongs his response when Eijun offers him to go back to their apartments together. He stays impassive when he overhears Eijun refusing to hang out with his friends after the game is over.

Strictly being his neighbor is enough. Not even being friends is okay. Kazuya has never had that problem before. Chris is just being overprotective of Eijun, and he’s trying to implant inessential informations into Kazuya’s brain, when there’s absolutely nothing to be worried about.

Sawamura Eijun is just a guy who lives beside him—no big deal.

Chapter Text

Sunday has always been the day Eijun looks forward to, even when he has many assignments due the day after. Sunday, in Eijun’s personal calendar, is considered as a mandatory holiday. He’ll clear all of his schedules in that particular day, or try to finish his business before Sunday comes. He might have taken Chris-senpai’s advice about resting a bit too literally, but he doesn’t want history to repeat itself.

He doesn’t want to go through the same phase as his freshman college year self—miserable, constantly irate, and practically a stranger to the concept of relaxing.

Eijun stretches on his bed, cat-like, inadvertently popping his joints. He feels like he’s almost out of shape—he’s slightly ashamed to admit that he immediately passed out on his bed as soon as he arrived at his apartment yesterday. The game wasn’t intense, but quite tiring. It’s expected from someone who hasn’t played in a while.

“I should go to the gym later,” the pitcher mumbles sleepily. Yawning, he glances towards the clock. 7 am. Still too early—and that’s saying a lot from someone who used to wake up before the sun itself.

He reaches for his phone on the nightstand, punching his pin to unlock the device. The brightness of the screen causes him to squint a bit. The curtains are still drawn together; his room dim with the lack of morning sunlight. Eijun mindlessly scrolls through the notification center, smiling to himself at some of his friends’ funny messages, before another message from yesterday catches his attention.

Narumiya-senpai

Sawamura-kun

I heard you got a new place

Can I come over (￢‿￢)

(delivered at 05.23 pm)

Oi, you impertinent brat

I’m offering you some cock here and you dare to ignore me?! ٩(╬ʘ益ʘ╬)۶

(delivered at 06.01 pm)

SAWAMURA

DON’T TELL ME YOU’VE HAD YOUR FUN BEFORE ME?!!!? (╬`益´)

(delivered at 06.12 pm)

WAIT ARE YOU IN THE MIDDLE OF GETTING FUCKED BY SOMEONE NOW

Just so you see brat, the next time we do it, we’re gonna have 5 fucking rounds. And no, you won’t top.

(delivered at 06.45 pm)

Eijun doesn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed. Narumiya-senpai is the one who’s been busy in the past weeks; he didn’t even respond to any of Eijun’s messages until he sent one short message: Busy, talk to u later.

And now, he still has the nerve to reprimand Eijun for replying late?

“Stupid, stingy, spoiled senpai,” Eijun grumbles under his breath with no real heat behind his words. He should’ve seen this coming, though. In actuality, he’s gotten used to Narumiya’s behavior, but that doesn’t mean he can’t complain about it.

Eijun snickers when he finally knows what to reply.

Eijun

Can you even last for 5 rounds, senpai?

(ง ื▿ ื)ว

ANYWAY I WAS PLAYING BASEBALL YESTERDAY WHEN U TEXTED!!!

(delivered at 07.18 am)

Not expecting a reply at such an early time in the morning, Eijun decides to check on another messages, only replying to the important ones with a rapid typing skill he’s honed through the years, until his thumb stops at a new notification popping on his screen. His heart skips a beat.

It’s from his mother.

There’s nothing wrong about her text. He doesn’t have any heart-wrenching parent-child dramas, but he can’t say that he has a warm relationship with his parents, either. Not too distant, not too close. He had always been in the middle, always having to choose one side, while his parents were drifting apart.

As if there was an invicible thread between them as it weakened over time, worn due to the constant pull by both sides—

—until the thread eventually got broken one day.

Eijun rubs his eyes at the unwanted reminiscence and stares at the message. His mother is asking him the basic inquiries a mother would ask to her son: hygiene, academic progress, work, food, money, and his new apartment. Eijun also responds with his own basic answers: fine, good, it’s enough, don’t worry about me, thanks for asking, mom.

Because that’s what he’s been doing, too. He’s not really a great actor, but pretending that everything’s fine through texts is far easier. Besides, it’s not like he’s really lying now, since everything is remotely better than his first year of college.

His phone dings with another notification, and this time, it’s from his spoiled senpai.

Narumiya-senpai

JUST SO U KNO, I HAVE A FUCKING GREAT STAMINA

I PITCHED AN ENTIRE GAME IN HIGH SCHOOL

(delivered at 07.55 am)

Eijun

Yeah n that was when your team lost against mine ( ◡‿◡ *)

Anyway senpai. You can come over next week. I’ll give you my new address

But this time u r buying the condoms bc u were absent for a whole three weeks ╮(︶︿︶)╭

(delivered at 07.56 am)

Narumiya-senpai

(￣、￣〃) tch. Cocky brat. Fine. I’ll get my revenge later

(delivered at 07.59 am)

Eijun immediately closes the app and locks his phone, before throwing it carelessly somewhere on the bed. Anticipation bubbles in his stomach; Narumiya-senpai always knows how to give him a good time. A good distraction. It’s partially the reason why Eijun had agreed to their arrangement.

A blurry flash of a bar, lights set down low, with a faint random melody from the nearest speaker and a tired-looking blonde sitting on a stool beside him burns bright and vivid in the back of his mind.

Eijun shakes his head.

“Ugh, what’s with all of these sudden flashbacks,” he grouses. Then, he jumps off the bed, inhaling deeply, before he screams his lungs out. “THIS SAWAMURA EIJUN SHALL NOT DWELL IN THE PAST TOO MUCH—“

Thump thump thump.

“Huh?” Eijun whips his head upon hearing three, consecutive annoyed knocks on his wall. He’s about to brush it off as mere coincidence, mind already occupied with the thought of breakfast, not after a familiar voice comes from the other side of the wall.

“SHUT UP, BAKAMURA!”

It’s Miyuki Kazuya, his asshole of a neighbor, his voice cracking ridiculously. Eijun grins; it seems that his self-motivational yelling has woken up his neighbor.

“RISE AND SHINE, MIYUKI KAZUYA!” Eijun yells back, “WAKE UP AND DO SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE!”

He’s aware that he’s being a hypocrite, since he’s declared previously that Sunday will always be Eijun’s lethargic day, but Kazuya doesn’t need to know that.

His neighbor doesn’t reply, however, to which Eijun assumes that probably he’s gone back to sleep.

Eijun does his thing, too. He has a quick shower, makes himself his favorite chocolate milk, and heats up an oyakodon he got from the conbini he works at into the microwave. But, he doesn’t feel like eating inside his room, and he’s always wanted to see the view through his balcony.

Working fast, he proceeds to drag a chair and a small coffee table to the balcony, and snatches his guitar out of its case along the process.

It’s the best decision Eijun makes today.

The morning breeze caresses his skin pleasantly. There are jovial laughters from some children playing soccer at the small, local park beside the apartment building. Moreover, for a cheap apartment, the balcony is quite spacious; hence why he can even eat breakfast there.

Between every spoonful of his breakfast, after tuning the guitar, Eijun experimentally strums some random songs that pop out inside his head all the while humming the lyrics. He sometimes pauses if he makes a mistake, before proceeding to pick the strings, finger-styled.

A sound of glass door sliding earns his attention. Eijun turns his head to the sound, still chewing on his breakfast, then chokes at the sight before him.

Miyuki Kazuya might have always appeared at unexpected times, but to show up at his balcony shirtless with only a short pants, hair still messy and disheveled, and not wearing his usual glasses is fucking unfair.

Eijun passionately gulps down the chocolate milk on the coffee table, forcing the food down his throat. With a sigh, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and glares. “Why do you always show up unannounced?”

“What the hell do you mean unannounced?” Kazuya shoots back. “If anything, your loud noise in the morning was pretty much uncalled for. Now I can’t go back to sleep.”

“Then don’t,” Eijun sticks his tongue unapologetically. “Also wear some clothes or something, Miyuki Kazuya! Do you want to get arrested for public indecencies?!”

At that, Kazuya leans forward to the fence of his balcony, facing Eijun while smirking smugly. “Hm? Is this bothering you?”

Eijun tries hard not to steal any glances towards Kazuya’s perfectly sculpted six-packs and the V-line that trails down below the pants, leaving only his imagination. Instead, Eijun scoops up another spoonful of his oyakodon to his mouth, places the plastic container back on the table and picks the strings of his guitar.

“Hey now, are you really ignoring your senpai?” Kazuya asks, unimpressed.

Finally swallowing his food normally, Eijun sings along the made-up-on-the-spot chords, “Miyuki Kazuya, is my asshole of a neighbor,

“He looks like a nerd, and studies about the computer,

“He has a nasty personality, and didn’t offer me any help at our first encounter,”

Then, Eijun finishes his song triumphantly with a final strum, “Bastard tanuki senpai, I hope you suffer~”

Apparently, Eijun doesn’t learn from his previous experiences of ‘insulting’ Kazuya, which have never been taken seriously by the latter. Like now. His neighbor is clutching on his sides, his obnoxious belly-laugh making Eijun growl.

“Th-That’s—“ Kazuya chokes out. “Man, I hope you stick to your major, Sawamura. The music department would get too intimidated by your singing skill.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Eijun yells indignantly, face also flushing from embarassment. Actually, he’s aware that his singing isn’t exactly the best, but his guitar skill is able to cover it up. So, of course, Eijun boasts about it. “At least I can impress you with my top-notch guitar skill.”

“I don’t know,” Kazuya hums, pretending to think. “I couldn’t hear it over your... abysmal singing.”

“You can request one song,” Eijun demands determinedly, eyes squinting in a challenging gaze. “I’ll play it for you.”

“No need to get serious about this,” his neighbor says, clearly not expecting the minor turn of events. However, when he sees the look on Eijun’s face, he concedes. “Alright, alright, don’t give me that mound face.”

“Mound face?” the pitcher blinks.

“Well- you had a similar expression when you were on the mound,” Kazuya replies all too rushed in one breath, before he sighs. “Nevermind, just.. play me one song you’re really good at.”

“But that won’t be fair, since I’ve practiced it many times.”

“Bakamura, how is me, requesting a whole new song you’ve probably never played before, a fair situation for you to show off your skill?” Kazuya deadpans, “well, unless you’re some kind of a guitar expert, maybe,” he adds uncertainly.

Eijun lets that sink in, before he grimaces. “Uh.. um. Maybe you’ve got a point there.”

“You’re just dumb,” Kazuya states bluntly, to which Eijun snarls at. This man—can he say nice words, for once?

Maybe, if Eijun can really impress him with just one song, Kazuya would have no choice but to praise him again—just like when he praised Eijun’s perfect pitch yesterday, although he ended his words with a typical smart-ass comment. Figures.

With that in mind, Eijun chooses a song he had learned during his admittedly shameful, lonely nights in his freshman college year. Nimble fingers start to work on the chord, as his other hand finger-picks the strings. He opens his mouth and sings along softly—perhaps too inaudible for Kazuya to hear.

“I don’t know who you are

And I don’t know where you’ve been

Always out on your own

Always down on your knees,

Although the pitcher’s eyes are focused towards his guitar, somehow, he can sense Kazuya’s burning gaze on him.

“Now you know I need a miracle

A star-crossed lover

An arrow in my heart

I need a rainy day

And an endless summer

A pocket full of stars..”

He sings the ‘Ooooh’ part, this time looking straight at Kazuya who looks appeased—and hopefully satisfied enough—at Eijun’s short performance. Deciding that he doesn’t need to finish the whole song, Eijun pulls his fingers away from the guitar and reaches out for his temporarily abandoned oyakodon. He gobbles it down in one bite as Kazuya clears his throat.

“I see that even you have something you’re good at other than yelling,” he comments, giving a smirk that is too soft than his usual ones.

“You suck at giving compliments, Miyuki Kazuya!” Eijun huffs. “But I’ll take it.”

“Baka,” Kazuya breathes out. He looks hesitant for a second—and Eijun can only guess that the catcher is contemplating something again in his head; why does he always do that?—before he speaks up. This time, his mouth wins over his brain. “May I know the title? Or the singer. Or the band,” he asks awkwardly.

“Huh? Sure. It’s Pocket Full of Stars by...” Eijun snaps his fingers to recall the correct name of the band. “...Nine Black Alps, if I’m not mistaken. Why are you asking for my permission, Miyuki? You weirdo.”

Kazuya rolls his eyes. “Just trying to be considerate. Judging from your expression earlier, I thought it was an important song to you. You know, in the private kind of way.”

“Nah, it’s not that deep,” Eijun mutters, shrugging. It’s kind of true. He just happened to remember his past through this song. “I really like the lyrics, though.”

“Me too,” comes Kazuya’s reply a seconds later. “The instrumental piece is nice. If I could play guitar I’d learn it, too, I guess.”

Eijun instantly thinks back of his grandfather, teaching an eight years old Eijun about the basic chords of the guitar inside his bedroom. It was locked, it was closed; it had done nothing to mute the intense arguments of his parents outside. Even the clangs of some kind of metallic objects being thrown to wherever. Yet, despite how harsh and strict his grandfather was sometimes, his company was still a hundred times better than anything at that time.

He misses him. He’s already not here, but perhaps Eijun can relive his grandpa, inside his heart, by continuing what he’d taught to Eijun.

“I can teach you, if you want,” he offers to Kazuya magnanimously. If that bastard refuses, well, it’s his loss, Eijun adds inwardly to make himself feel good.

However, Kazuya sends him a shit-eating grin, “I bet you expected me to say no, right? Too bad I’m gonna take on that offer soon.”

Eijun stares at him, gobsmacked. Wait, he actually agrees?

“You didn’t just give me an empty offer just to look kind, now did you?”

“Of- OF COURSE NOT!!” Eijun bristles at the accusation. “This Sawamura Eijun is a man of words!!!”

Kazuya chuckles, turning his heels to go back to his apartment. He gives Eijun a two-finger salute, right before he closes his sliding glass door. “Then, don’t disappoint me, partner.” He winks, and disappears.

Red blooms on Eijun’s cheeks when he hears the familiar word which Kazuya had also thrown to him yesterday during the baseball game.

The word partner shouldn’t be this intimate.

But it’s not like he can control how his love-starved, fragile little heart interprets innocent informations. Wait, scratch that, he’s not even love-starved, what the heck is he thinking? It’s not like the word partner means anything, either, considering it comes from the ever-conniving Miyuki Kazuya.

It’s not like it’s nice to be called as someone’s partner or anything.

It really, really, isn’t.

(It is.)

Kazuya trudges out of the class to the packed corridor, full of equally tired students walking around like zombies. A horrid sight that is, sadly, already normalized in the college life. If this is what they look in their third year, then Kazuya really doesn’t want to see their—or his—state in the final year.

He walks down the stairs, carefully not to bump with another students, and takes a brief look to his sport watch. Already lunch time. He still has some spare time before his last class of the day starts in the afternoon. He should grab some food, he decides.

Slowing his steps, Kazuya digs into his pocket and pulls his phone out, checking any messages from anyone. At this hour, usually he’d have two options: first, he’d eat with someone. Kuramochi would invite him to eat together with his baseball buddies, who are also, fortunately, familiar enough with Kazuya so that the catcher won’t feel like an outcast. The other person would be Mei, but it’s rare, and once he does, him inviting Kazuya to eat together is an excuse for Mei to rant—whine—about his life during the entire lunch, and he’d rather not to babysit someone right now.

Second, he’d eat alone—which is probably the best option right now, since Kuramochi hasn’t sent him any messages today.

Should I ask him? Kazuya ponders again, thumb hovering on Kuramochi’s chatroom. But I don’t have much time to wait for him getting out of the art building. It’s too far from here.

“I’m sorry, I really can’t, senpai!” a prominent shout among the chatterings of students instantly draws the attention of many, including Kazuya.

He looks up from his phone to the source of the voice and immediately recognizes it—how could he not, when Kazuya always hears him yelling from the other side of the wall?

Eijun, with his ridiculously bright scarlet hoodie (does his wardrobe only consist of blindingly vibrant colors?!), is talking to a dark-haired senior bigger than him—broader, and two inches taller. In a way, Eijun seems to be in a pinch, and it doesn’t look like he can run away anytime soon.

All of a sudden, Kazuya has a really bad feeling when Eijun catches his gaze.

The latter beams widely, showing a row of perfect teeth, his gumline peeking just a shy of his lips. That gummy smile just.. strangely suits him in a way that is Eijun, and that soft crinkles on the corner of eyes highlights his cute facial features.

Eijun doesn’t even let Kazuya register his own thought of calling his neighbor cute, because the next thing he knows, Eijun is tugging the sleeve of Kazuya’s black, denim jacket to bring him closer, and-

- wraps his hand around Kazuya’s.

In any other circumstances, Kazuya’s brain would have probably shut down at the action, because only limited people is allowed to initiate physical contact with Kazuya.

But now, he has to focus on another issue, and it doesn’t take a genius to comprehend the current situation. Eijun is wordlessly asking for Kazuya’s help to be his fake boyfriend—as cliché as it is. This is probably Eijun’s best idea after watching some rom-coms that Kazuya has never even seen, and probably never will, in his life. And if Kazuya doesn’t adjust fast, the senior would grow suspicious of his rigid posture.

However, lying and improvising have always been Kazuya’s forte—Eijun’s quite lucky to have him as the person standing nearby.

“What’s wrong, Eijun?” he asks casually, gesturing to the senior. “You know him?”

Thankfully, Eijun remains unconcerned by the sudden usage of his given name.

“No, Kazuya, I don’t really know him, we just met once and – “ he pauses, before his expression morphs into an agitated one—the kind that anyone would make when they realize their own stupidity.

“So... This is your boyfriend?” The senior awkwardly inquires.

“Yes!” Eijun nods his head. “But—just recently!” he adds, panicking a bit. “A few days after we, um, met! So, you don’t have to worry about that – “

“Eijun, I think we have to go,” Kazuya interjects, sending a polite smile to the uncomfortable-looking senior. “If you don’t mind.”

“Right. Sure, sorry for disturbing,” the senior rubs the back of his head, walks backwards, and trots away to the left, disappearing behind a group of chatting students.

Flustered, the warmth on Kazuya’s hand vanishes as Eijun frees his hands. Kazuya chastises himself for being disappointed—why would he get disappointed over a silly, hand holding, anyway?

Rather than that, there’s a more important matter to be discussed.

“So... boyfriend, huh?” Kazuya starts, keenly examining a fidgeting Eijun. “Care to explain, Sawamura?”

Eijun unexpectedly blushes, eyes darting to wherever except to Kazuya’s face. “He.. he was hitting on me.”

“Uh huh?” Kazuya quirks an eyebrow. “Then why did he look so disturbed when he found out about your supposed-to-be boyfriend?”

“Ahahaha! The thing here is...“ Eijun laughs loudly, scratching his cheek. “He was one of the guys I slept with. The one you eavesdropped to – “

“Oi, didn’t I tell you about the thin walls – “

“ – and he was happy to see me again because he forgot to leave his number when he left in the morning but I’m not really interested in having a relationship and he was a bit pushy and then I caught sight of you and you know the rest so thank you for your cooperation, Miyuki-senpai!”

Much to Kazuya’s dismay, Eijun bows formally, folding his body in half, attracting judgemental looks from passersby. Kazuya pulls the back of the pitcher’s hoodie in embarassment, slightly grateful that Eijun didn’t do a whole dogeza, but still.

“Yeah, okay, I get it, idiot, don’t do that randomly!” Kazuya hisses. Eijun complies and straightens his body. “And about time you call me senpai,” he adds, smirking.

“Because that was the only time you acted like one!” Eijun counters, defending himself.

“Your plan was stupid, by the way,” Kazuya comments disapprovingly. “I bet he thought he had fucked someone who already has a boyfriend. And he probably thought you’re a cheater, or something.”

“That’s why I told him that I got a boyfriend after that night!”

“You suck at lying, though.”

“And you—ugh, I regret ever asking your help, you damn tanuki.”

The catcher rolls his eyes, and checks his sport watch again. Damn, he really has just spent his time on helping his neighbor. He needs some kind of compensation. “Hey, are you free?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Come get some lunch with me,” Kazuya says with a tone that sounds like an order. Like he doesn’t take no for an answer – because Miyuki Kazuya has never invited someone other than Kuramochi to get lunch with him, as pathetic as it sounds. Heck, Kazuya does not even partake in any kinds of social events unless people asks him first.

He wonders why inviting Eijun feels so natural, either way.

But, as expected, Eijun eyes him suspiciously. “Huh? Why should I?”

“I helped you,” Kazuya points out.

That successfully makes Eijun pout. Literally pouting. No college students should even pout like a whole five-years old. And they shouldn’t look that adorable, either. Kazuya must have felt so hungry his mind can’t even produce comprehensible thoughts.

Without waiting for his neighbor, Kazuya walks ahead, shoving both of his hands on the pockets of his jeans. Eijun jogs up to match his pace, grouching something about conniving tanukis.

“Where are we going?”

“Conbini,” Kazuya answers. Granted, he’s not exactly a fan of instant food, given the fact that he cooks, but he figures that the cafeteria or other restaurants would be busy at this hour, and conbini is the nearest source of food to this particular building. Eijun doesn’t seem to be complaining, either.

During the five-minutes walk to the store, Kazuya should’ve expected that Eijun would be boisterous as well. Not to him, precisely, but to the seemingly-endless amount of people they run into. Kazuya’s seen how Eijun interacts with everyone like some lost long friends during the baseball game, but he really doesn’t know what to feel when he sees how Eijun carries himself around the people in the campus.

Kazuya can tell that the people they pass by aren’t close with Eijun. They’re, presumably, those types of acquintances you met for group projects, a friend of a friend, or the people you’re expected—more like forced, in Kazuya’s not-so-humble opinion—to work with in student communities or organizations.

Despite that, Eijun isn’t afraid to greet them all with an unwavering confidence, flashing them his trademark friendly grin. In return, Eijun receives various positive responses—a shoulder pat, a wave, a high five, and even a flirtatious tap on the arm by a girl.

(That same girl not-so-discreetly steals an appreciative glance towards Kazuya, and whispers to Eijun with pink cheeks. “Sawamura-kun, is he your friend? He’s so hot, can you introduce me sometimes?” to which Eijun only responds with a hesitant “I’ll have to ask him first!”, before they part ways.)

Regardless, the whole scene unfurling before Kazuya punctuates Eijun’s ability to easily slot himself into the heart of a group, or maybe an individual.

And it leads into Kazuya musing something ludicrous—if this was a movie, Eijun would totally be the main, popular protagonist and Kazuya would be the nerdy, unsociable, and insignificant side character.

By the time they finally reaches the convenience store, it’s not as vacant as Kazuya thought, but thankfully the queue to the cashier isn’t long.

“Hey, Miyuki,” Eijun says, standing in front of an open display fridge filled with microwavable bento boxes. He picks a box, scrutinizes it, and places it back before doing the same thing with another box.

“What is it, Mr. Popular?” Kazuya answers distractedly, sifting the meals before him with his eyes.

“Don’t call me that!” Eijun huffs, side-eyeing the catcher. “Anyway, I just wanna ask if you’re interested with one of my friends earlier.”

“You mean, the girl with blonde hair, right?” Kazuya asks, finally deciding on one bento box. “I overheard her saying something about me. I’m gonna be straighforward about this, so, no.”

“No?” Eijun repeats, taking a cold strawberry milk from the display cooler.

“No,” Kazuya confirms as he quickly grabs a cold can of black coffee. Eijun sends a stink eye both at the beverage and Kazuya, probably judging him for drinking such bitter liquid when he could’ve chosen a sweet one like Eijun instead.

Gratefully, Eijun doesn’t press further and respects Kazuya’s decision. They wait for their food to be heated up and pay in silence before they sit on the unoccupied seats provided by the conbini.

“I’m surprised that you didn’t nag me about rejecting her,” Kazuya comments as they munch on their respective meals. Eijun frowns and swallows his food.

“Why would I force you into something that you don’t want?”

“Well, I originally thought you were a nosy type of person,” Kazuya says bluntly, smirking at Eijun’s emerging scowl. This kid is really easy to burst.

“Rude! Don’t just assume things, you shitty tanuki,” the pitcher grouses. “And even if I tried to pry, I doubt you’d even tell me anything.”

“Why? Because I look too standoffish if compared to someone like you?” Kazuya snorts, having a vague idea of where this conversation is going. “I already knew that. I’ve been told by many people that I’m unlikeable. No need to tell it to my face again.”

“No!” Eijun abruptly shouts, leaning forward with a scraping sound from his chair, startling Kazuya a little. “I didn’t say that! Your personality is nasty but I wouldn’t go as far as to call you unlikeable, you know!” he waves his arm expressively, then continues, “I mean, you’re kind enough to invite me to lunch! And—oh! Remember when you were about to knock on my door so I wouldn’t be late to the game? You’re definitely nicer than what people thought, Miyuki.”

Kazuya blinks.

It’s not the first time that someone had implied the opposite thing when they were asked to describe Kazuya. Closed-off, distant, aloof, reclusive; basically all words that are related to his somewhat antisocial life. However, what makes him taken aback by Eijun’s words is the fact that the pitcher is perceptive enough to have a different opinion about Kazuya.

An unknown pleasant feeling suddenly bubbles inside Kazuya’s chest. “Okay, okay. You don’t have to try so hard to convince me that I’m a good person, Bakamura,” he awkwardly says.

“True,” Eijun surprisingly acquiesces. “I don’t know you well enough to decide on that. Say,” he then grins brightly, propping his chin on both of his palms. “How about we exchange LINE contacts?”

Kazuya almost chokes on his food at Eijun’s suggestion, “huh? What for?”

“To chat, duh!” His neighbor throws him a look of disbelief, “don’t tell me you only use it for boring, college necessities?!”

“And what if I do?” Kazuya sighs, tugging the lid of his coffee can and takes a big gulp. Frankly, he really does. Aside from occasional messages from Kuramochi and his seniors, his LINE is filled with college related groups and chatrooms. That being so, spending his time on the app would just make his head hurt.

However, Eijun gasps, as though Kazuya has just comitted an unforgivable crime. “Don’t be such an old man!” he scolds, “let this Sawamura Eijun to be your friend on LINE!!”

“That’s not enough of a reason for me to grant your wish, Mr. Popular,” Kazuya smirks.

“Ugh,” Eijun makes a face. “We’re neighbors, after all! If you need something from me when I’m not in my apartment for the moment, you’ll eventually need my contact, Miyuki Kazuya!”

“I doubt that,” Kazuya replies dryly.

“Then how about if you forgot something really important at the campus but you were already at home?! You’d have no choice but to ask me!” Eijun tries again, smiling smugly as though he’s won the argument.

“..I could’ve contacted Kuramochi instead,” Kazuya retorts.

“It wouldn’t hurt to depend on more than one friend,” Eijun scrunches his nose, looking displeased. “We’re friends, right, Miyuki Kazuya?”

At the casual use of the word friend, Kazuya’s breath hitches.

A part of his brain warns him that he shouldn’t have taken that seriously, since Kazuya had jokingly called him as his partner twice. It was all for the sake of fun, because seeing a flustered Eijun is always worth it.

Eijun, on the other hand, seems to genuinely mean his words.

And that makes the catcher wonders about how Eijun can unintentionally voice out minor things that Kazuya’s secretly wanted to hear all of this time, while being unaware of the impact of his words.

Maybe it’s okay to let him in, his inner gut tells him. Exchanging LINE contacts won’t get you attached to him.

So Kazuya relents, reluctantly spelling his username for Eijun to type it on the search bar of the app, rewarded by that inhumanely bright, gummy smile from Eijun.

He also pointedly disregards the foreign, lukewarm feeling that rushes back to his chest, and resumes to eat the remnant of his meal.

Chapter Text

Kazuya has a lot of regrets.

He regrets spending his money on an expensive coffee brand because it turned out like shit. He regrets wasting his ticket to a whole match of the Dragons vs the Swallows because he overslept. He regrets not studying properly for one particular important exam last semester because it affected his grades.

Currently, Kazuya is also starting to regret his decision for giving Eijun his LINE contact.

For the past 3 days, Eijun has been ceaselessly spamming him with random messages (his penchant for using capslock is really not helping Kazuya’s growing headache), showing off his paid stickers and themes, or sending him some memes (which Kazuya begrudgingly admits as funny).

At one time, Kazuya decided to mute his contact, but Eijun, being a stubborn little kouhai like he is, was spamming him with more messages until the notifs in Eijun’s chatroom finally reached around a hundred—courtesy of Eijun himself.

Despite being highly bothered by the amount of notifications, he somehow isn’t heartless enough to delete them or leave Eijun on read, so he ends up replying to them, albeit most of his own messages are curt and unceremonious, without the excessive usage of kaomojis and stickers, prompting Eijun to call him as a boomer.

In such a short time, Kazuya is so used to Eijun bombarding him with incessant messages that he’s bamboozled by the lack of notification in his phone this evening. As he refreshes his timeline, he momentarily even ponders to be the one to open the conversation this time, but that’s just so uncharacteristic of him. If Kuramochi ever gets to hear this, he’d probably wheeze at the idea of Kazuya initiating a social interaction without any good reason. Kazuya believes in the law of give-and-take, above all.

Still, he can’t quite fathom why he’s so bothered by this. Maybe he’s afraid that he, in some way, has made Eijun mad by his terse replies? If so, why does it matter, anyway? Kazuya never cares for people hating on him before.

As if mocking Kazuya, an idol pop song is suddenly blasted from the other side of their shared thin wall. The catcher cringes at the loud volume and the high-pitch voice of the female singer. Shaking his head at Eijun’s music taste, he knocks three times on the wall as a sign for Eijun to tone it down.

Waiting for his neighbor to get the memo, Kazuya proceeds to focus on his new assignment that is almost neglected due to his prior useless distress about Eijun who probably doesn’t give a flying fuck about his own doing. He can’t help but feel a bit disgruntled at that.

Then again, maybe Kazuya is the one who’s overthinking. Someone as outgoing as Eijun must have a dozen of friends to chat with. If one of them isn’t replying, so be it.

Somehow, Kazuya’s mood dampened even worse as he types on his keyboard aggressively. Moreover, Eijun hasn’t lowered the volume, forcing Kazuya to listen to the whole song for an agonizing three minutes of his life. Just when the intro of another song from the same singer is heard, Kazuya’s had enough. He snatches his phone on the bed and punches the call button on Eijun’s contact.

Surprisingly enough, it doesn’t take five seconds for Eijun to answer. “Miyuki Kazuya! Such a rare occurrence it is for you to call this Sawamura Eijun!”

Kazuya exhales vexedly and decides to immediately voice out his complaint. “Use some headphones or this will be the first and the last time I call you.”

“But my headphone is broken!!” Eijun protests, voice almost as loud as his music. “Even if I have one, I still prefer using speakers!”

“Then lower the volume, idiot,” Kazuya hisses. “My ears are throbbing because of how loud it is,” he adds, exaggerating his words a bit just because.

“You could’ve said it nicely, you nasty four-eyed bastard,” Eijun grouches as the sound of the music gradually diminishes from Kazuya’s range of hearing.

“For your information, I knocked on your wall,” the catcher flatly says, “but you didn’t hear it over your excellent choice of music.”

“Was that sarcasm?! That was sarcasm, wasn’t it?! Take that back, Miyuki Kazuya!” Eijun hollers from the other side of the line, and Kazuya can definitely imagine him going cat-eyed or flaring his nostrils like a bull. Kazuya bites his lips when the corner of his mouth unwillingly twitches into a smile as he realizes how ironic it is to get his mood lifted again by the same person who got him into a sour mood, albeit unknowingly.

“Alright, I’m gonna hang up now,” Kazuya announces after a beat.

“Wait! Don’t leave yet!” Eijun shouts, a bit too desperate in Kazuya’s ears as though he really can’t stand the thought of Kazuya leaving, causing him to feel a strange flutter of butterflies inside his stomach. What the hell is wrong with me lately? The catcher laments, frowning.

Eijun, concerned by the silence from Kazuya’s side, speaks up. “Miyuki? You still there?”

“…Yeah,” Kazuya manages to reply.

“Cool! So, uh,” the pitcher pauses, sounding a bit uncertain, “I was wondering if you wanna play catch with me.”

Kazuya spares a brief look at the alarm clock on his nightstand as the digital, red numbers glare inside his poorly lit bedroom. Eight pm. It’s already eight pm, and Eijun wants to play catch with him.

“You’re joking, right?” Kazuya asks tiredly, somehow having a hunch that Eijun doesn’t joke about things like this. “I can’t. I’m working on an assignment.”

“Come oooon,” Eijun whines. “I’m also working on an essay but I’m stuck so I need to do something to clear my head!”

“Isn’t that your problem and you’re just dragging me into it?” Kazuya snorts. By now, he’s putting Sawamura into a speaker mode so that Kazuya can persevere to type on his laptop.

“Please, Miyuki-senpai, just this once!” Eijun pleads, “I bet you’re not getting your assignment anywhere done, either!”

Kazuya pauses, fingers hovering on top of the keyboards. The infinite amount of small numbers displayed in his laptop screen somehow is getting blurry, melting and mashing together into a dizzying, spiral patterns. It looks like a nightmare and Kazuya wants to wake up from it. He closes his eyes to calm himself, inwardly pondering how much time has passed since he worked on this.

Three hours, he calculates. It’s been three hours and he’s only taken a rest for every interval of fifteen minutes.

“You’re doing it again,” Eijun’s voice interrupts his thoughts, sounding a bit impatient. “That.. thing when you’re thinking too hard before you reply!”

Kazuya is torn between retorting with a surprised “so you noticed?” or a sardonic “do I only get a senpai whenever you want something?”, so he does none of above.

“Bring your mitt and a ball, we’ll go back at nine,” he declares instead, hanging up even before Eijun gets the chance to shout out dramatic words of gratefulness. Kazuya hops off the bed, dresses into something warmer and grabs his slightly worn mitt.

Predictably, Eijun is already waiting outside, doing as far as stretching on the hallway. Kazuya makes a face and shakes his head, opting to walk ahead without waiting for his neighbor, resulting in Eijun catching up with indignant protests. Nothing new.

Eijun leads them to the tiny local park located behind their apartment building. It’s surrounded by trees and enough illumination from the street lights so that they won’t end up tripping. Eijun admits that he’s always wanted to go here ever since he viewed it from the balcony, watching kids from the neighborhood rough-housing or playing sports.

As they stand in their own positions, they spend the next two minutes throwing and catching in complete silence, relishing in the booming smack! sound produced by a ball making contact against a mitt.

In any case, facing a quiet Eijun isn’t something that Kazuya fancies right now, especially when they’re in the middle of a park so vacant and noiseless it’s almost eery.

“Hey, Miyuki,” Eijun calls out as though he’s just read Kazuya’s mind.

“Yeah?” Kazuya throws back the ball. Eijun catches it and makes no attempt to release it.

“Am I really bothering you?” the pitcher asks, fidgeting under Kazuya’s confused gaze.

“Why do you ask?” he inquires carefully, observing the indecipherable look on Eijun’s face.

“I just thought that maybe my messages are bothering you,” Eijun mumbles, kicking the dirt on the ground. “And you seemed to be mad at me when you called me earlier, so,” he looks up slightly, “I apologize if you see me as a nuisance.”

Kazuya swallows the invicible lump in his throat as he notices Eijun looking a bit dejected. So that’s why Eijun has stopped messaging him. Guilt creeps up to his chest—it’s not the first time that his subconscious tendency to guard himself has hurt anyone who tries to break into his walls, and Kazuya’s always been indifferent about that matter.

However, the thought of inadvertently hurting Sawamura Eijun, who’s all smiles and sunshine and rainbows, makes Kazuya feel like an asshole. Because Chris is right—Eijun isn’t just a moronic loudmouth of a person who‘s not capable of feeling any human emotions.

And Kazuya doesn’t want to be reason of Eijun’s gloomy clouds and raindrops.

“What are you talking about, Bakamura?” Kazuya then asks with a volume that is unnecessarily louder than usual. “Don’t think too hard with that brain of yours. You might hurt yourself.”

“What?!” Eijun flares up. “Here I was apologizing to you, and that’s your response to me?! Apologize to me instead, Miyuki Kazuya!”

A small grin find its way to Kazuya’s lips. “Now that’s my noisy neighbor that I know,” he shoves his gloveless hand into his pocket. “You know, if I found you annoying, I wouldn’t even be here, Noisymura.”

Eijun’s golden irises lit up in hope, his previously sullen expression burgeoning into a relieved one.

“I knew that you’re a good person inside!” he exclaims with a delighted giggle.

Kazuya’s heart misses a beat.

This kid, he growls internally, fighting off a blush forming on his cheeks. Eijun really should stop saying embarassing, unpredictable, and plainspoken words—that no one has ever even told Kazuya straight to his face—if he doesn’t want Kazuya to suffer from arrythmia.

He covers up his flustered state by sighing in exasperation. “Now, are you going to throw that ball or not?”

“Since you asked for it,” Eijun grins, this time putting more strength into his stance, and releases the ball. “Here!”

Effortlessly, Kazuya raises his hand up in the air and the ball smacks right into his mitt. “You call that a pitch?” he arches an eyebrow.

“Shut up!” Eijun fires back, “I wasn’t being serious! And it’s not my fault you’re good at catching!”

“My, what a high praise,” Kazuya smirks, wasting no time to throw the ball with the same force. Eijun catches it with a dumbfounded look, eyeing the ball in his hand.

“Ugh, now that’s just unfair. I almost forgot you also have good shoulders,” Eijun pouts, glaring daggers at Kazuya, to which the catcher rolls his eyes. “Say, why didn’t you join the baseball team?” Eijun tosses the ball back.

“I don’t plan to play it seriously,” Kazuya simply shrugs as the ball meets his mitt once again. “In case you’re not aware of it, you also have a potential, Sawamura. I should ask the same question to you.”

A ball being thrown.

“Really?! Well—I kinda have the same reason with you..”

A ball being caught.

“Hmm.”

They keep the ball occupied back and forth in the air as they end up shooting questions after questions. Eijun later reveals that Nagano is his hometown and rambles about many types of bugs in summer, to which Kazuya resists a shudder. (He hates bugs. He’s a city boy, don’t blame him for it.)

At one point, they’re sitting on the old metal swing chairs in the children’s playground. Eijun doesn’t miss the opportunity to rock the chair gently, albeit he looks awkward with how long his legs are.

“I made a wooden swing chair back in Nagano, once,” he tells Kazuya, eyes casted to the star-painted jet black sky. Kazuya cranes his neck up as well and devours the beautiful sight greedily. “I thought it’d be fun to be pushed by your parents, y’know. Just because I saw some other kids doing it.”

Eijun alters his gaze from above towards Kazuya in curiosity. “Have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Have your parents ever pushed you on a swing chair?”

Kazuya licks his suddenly dry lips at the mention of his parents. He dislikes to talk about them in any other circumstances, but this particular moment, right beside Eijun just feels right. Natural.

“My mom,” he then answers curtly, eyes still glued to the sky. “She used to—well, yeah. Once. Before she died,” he adds bluntly.

“Oh,” Eijun gasps softly, “I’m sorry, senpai, I didn’t know.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Kazuya chuckles humorlessly.

“Was it nice, though?” Eijun asks, in a lower volume. There’s a hint of longing in his tone; as though he’s yearning for something that could’ve been there in the past.

“It was,” Kazuya agrees, closing his eyes for a fleeting moment. Blissful memories of his mother’s smile fills his mind—in the playground, accompanying him; in the kitchen, preparing for dinner; in the aisle of a supermarket, choosing vegetables. Sometimes it was coupled with Kazuya’s own wide grin and his dad’s faint smile.

Until his dad stops smiling anymore.

“I’m glad,” Eijun’s reply halts Kazuya’s chain of thoughts. “Sometimes I wish that I got to experience it too, but that’s silly, isn’t it? Ahahaha!”

“It’s okay to wish for the silliest thing,” Kazuya mutters, glancing at the pitcher beside him. “My mom told me that.”

“Your mom is amazing,” come Eijun’s response a seconds later. Kazuya doesn’t have to turn his head fully to find out whether Eijun is being genuine or not—because Sawamura Eijun is nothing but the most honest person he’s ever met. Kazuya truthfully appreciates it.

“Should I say the same to yours?” Kazuya hesitantly questions.

Eijun begins to rock the swing chair again as it creaks under the pressure. “My mom—my parents are fine,” he utters, trying to mask whatever he’s thinking with a big smile.

Don’t do that, Kazuya thinks with a frown. Don’t do that. I’ve gotten attuned to how you openly express your emotions.

(Because Kazuya admires him for that.)

“I didn’t spend enough time with them to be able judge them, anyway,” Eijun says, before purposefully bemoaning out loud, “when we lived together, they were always busy with their business and now they live in different houses! It’s troublesome to visit both of them, you know, troublesome! And their houses are so far away, too!”

Kazuya processes the information inside his head, and concludes. “I’m sorry, are they...?”

“Oh? You mean—yeah! They’re divorced,” Eijun confirms lightly with a smile. It seems practiced and fabricated.

Don’t do that.

“Worry not, Miyuki Kazuya! It’s all in the past! Throw away that frown on your face this instant!!” the pitcher scolds, pointing rudely at the crease between Kazuya’s brows to lighten up the mood.

That does the trick, a little. Kazuya snorts, a smile steadfastly etched on his face, before he gets onto his feet while dusting the back of his pants.

“Are we going back now?” Eijun also makes an attempt to stand up hurriedly, but Kazuya’s firm hands on his shoulders are effective to push him down and plant his butt against the chair again rather harshly. “Ow, what the hell, you tanuki bastard – “

“Stay still, Bakamura,” Kazuya chastises, positioning himself behind Eijun, and gently pushes Eijun’s back. The chair Eijun sits on voluntarily swings back and forth.

“M-Miyuki-senpai..” Eijun peers over his shoulder, red blossoming on his cheeks. “What are you – “

“Just enjoy the ride, moron,” Kazuya mumbles, averting his gaze to elsewhere. He’s never thought that a blush could be contagious, but the warmth on his cheeks proves otherwise. “You said it yourself, right? It’s all in the past,” He reasons, before remarking with a more sarcastic edge on his words because Miyuki Kazuya refuses to be a total ‘softie’, “I’m generous enough to make new memories with you, as your kind senpai and neighbor.”

He doesn’t receive an immediate response, but his ears manage to capture an inaudible “thank you, senpai” from his neighbor, so softly spoken it almost gets carried away by the wind.

When Kazuya risks a glance at Eijun, he takes a sharp inhale of breath.

The cloud has shied away from the full moon as the moonlight casts a magical, soft glow around the pitcher, highlighting his delicate facial structures and the soft-looking brown strands on his head. His golden orbs are shining with mirth, blended with the yellowish hue from the light of the street lamps, and Kazuya’s unable to look away—not when his own gaze is locked with the young man before him for an intense second.

The same unbidden, pleasant feelings Kazuya’s been experiencing as of late resurfaces, and instead of evaporating into thin air, it settles there—nestled deep between the cracks of his heart.

And for once, he doesn’t question it.

“You seem to be in a good mood today,” Haruichi comments, tilting his head to the side, rosegold eyes observing Eijun’s cheery attitude thoroughly.

“Hehe, do I?” Eijun sniggers, making himself more comfortable on Haruichi’s couch while the pink haired young man sits on the carpeted floor, burying his face in thick books. Eijun mindlessly flips the pages of the manga in his hands, humming a tune.

“...Really, Eijun-kun? Are you humming Kimi Ga Yo?”

Eijun pouts at the unimpressed look Haruichi shoots at him. “What’s so wrong with cherishing the national anthem of our own country?!”

“You become weirder when you’re happy,” Furuya, Haruichi’s flatmate, chimes in with his usual disinterested tone, emerging from the kitchen while carrying a glass of water.

“Not you too, Furuya!” Eijun grouses, scowling at Furuya who only stares at him impassively before disappearing into his room.

“Did something happen yesterday?” Haruichi asks again with a teasing lilt.

Eijun opens his mouth to retort, but a sudden flash of Kazuya’s face at the park last night makes him tongue-tied.

Why did that tanuki appear inside my mind?! Eijun curls his lips downwards. Sure, he was exceptionally nice yesterday, but –

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Haruichi speaks up.

“But, Harucchi! But nothing really happened!” the pitcher whines to his best friend, to which Haruichi only hums at.

Huffing, Eijun then shifts his lying position by belly flopping on the couch. He recklessly tosses the manga somewhere to the carpeted floor and opts to play with his phone. As if on cue, a notification pops up.

Narumiya-senpai

You free tonight?

I don’t accept no as an answer tho

Bc I already told you I’m gonna come over this week.

(delivered at 04.01 pm)

Oh, right, Eijun blinks. He almost forgets about it if Narumiya doesn’t bring it up at all. Usually, he’d look forward to their hookups, just like a child jumping restlessly in their seat, waiting for their parents to finish paying for their ice cream. However, Eijun has spent most of his time with just messaging Kazuya this week, with his brain automatically rejecting additional plannings he has for the week with his other friends.

(Which is strange, since Eijun has never turned down offers to hang out without any good reasons before.)

Maybe he’s been pestering Kazuya too much, indeed. Maybe Kazuya was lying when he said he didn’t mind of Eijun’s company. But one thing Eijun’s learned about Kazuya is that he’s so outspoken—definitely not the type of person to sugarcoat his words, therefore it’s expected for him to just directly express his complaints if he really loathed Eijun.

Nevertheless, after seeing another part of Miyuki Kazuya at the park last night, Eijun’s pretty sure that Kazuya, at least, tolerates him. That fact, alone, pleases him—sending him an euphoric feeling, spiraling at the bottom of his gut. Moreover, Kazuya was quite considerate and gentle yesterday, if not a bit more honest than he normally is, albeit he was quick to go back into his guarded self.

Still, until this second, Eijun can’t forget his warm presence right behind his back as Kazuya rocked the swing chair back and forth. The way he looked at Eijun with an unreadable emotions in his chestnut orbs. The way he spoke with a softer tone on their way back to their apartment building –

“Eijun-kun,” Haruichi pipes up, snapping Eijun out of his reverie. “What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice holding more layers than what his face shows on the outside. Haruichi is just perceptive like that—perhaps a trait he acquires as a result of sticking around Ryousuke and Kuramochi.

“Nothing, Harucchi! It’s just – “ Eijun racks his brain to search for another excuse, mentally deciding that mentioning Kazuya is unnecessary. “I’m thinking of what to reply to Narumiya-senpai!” he plasters a grin. It’s a half-lie; he was, in fact, thinking of Narumiya before his mind stirred into a different direction.

Haruichi’s expression morphs into disapproving, and Eijun should’ve expected better than to broach the topic of his active sex life to his best friend.

“You’re still meeting up with him?” Haruichi furrows his brows.

“Well- you said it’s better than doing it with total strangers,” Eijun mutters defensively. “Besides, you already knew that Narumiya-senpai isn’t a bad guy.”

Haruichi has never met Narumiya before, but he was convinced enough with the stories Eijun had told him about Narumiya when Haruichi first discovered about their arrangement. That still doesn’t stop the pink haired young man from being suspicious due to his protective nature to Eijun.

“If you’re looking at it that way, I guess you’re right,” Haruichi concedes, to which Eijun takes a little offense from his words. The pitcher sighs.

“Harucchi, I’m not a kid anymore, y’know,” he grumbles bitterly, “you don’t have to be so overprotective with me. It’s not like I’m sleeping with some old men.”

Haruichi places his book down, and turns towards Eijun solemnly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on a leash,” he apologizes ruefully, “you’re right. I should’ve trusted you more.”

“Harucchi,” Eijun tries to interject, but Haruichi holds up a hand, indicating that he’s not done talking yet.

“But, I think I still have the right to worry,” he says, “you used to sleep around a lot when you were a freshman, Eijun-kun. And what horrifies me is the fact that you didn’t even do it because you truly wanted it,” Haruichi continues, voice lowering down into almost a whisper, the shine in his eyes dulling slightly. “You were just.. trying to search for a distraction.”

Eijun bites his lips harder than intended. “I was stressed,” he mumbles. He personally thinks that his state was far worse than that, but depressed is such a strong word, and Ryousuke had chided him for doing a self-diagnosis.

“I know, you don’t owe me an explanation,” Haruichi utters gently. “I won’t ever judge you for what you do, or did. I just don’t want you to feel obliged to have sex whenever you’re stressed,” he proceeds to squeeze Eijun’s hand.

Eijun’s heart trembles.

“I’m sorry, Harucchi,” he mumbles, slipping down from the couch and engulfes Haruichi in a tight hug. “I misunderstood your concern.”

“We’re even,” Haruichi sighs, patting Eijun’s back. He’s smiling – that, Eijun can tell. “Just don’t hurt yourself, Eijun-kun. You know how aniki is,” he chuckles, before adding, “and You-san, too.”

Eijun resists a shudder at the imaginary, yet possible scenario of Ryousuke and Kuramochi ganging up on him—it happened once and Eijun has been trying to lock the memory away—before he withdraws to send Haruichi a playful grin. “Rest assured! This Sawamura Eijun knows the consequences of his own wrongdoings!”

A ding from his phone interrupts the moment.

Narumiya-senpai

BRAT

Are you ignoring me again (‡▼益▼)

(delivered at 04.10 pm)

Eijun frantically types back a response.

Eijun

NO SENPAI

Yes u can come over!!! Prepare to be amazed by my place! ┐(︶▽︶)┌

(delivered at 04.11 pm)

Narumiya-senpai

It better be not messy (눈_눈)

Don’t forget to send me the location.

(delivered at 04.13 pm)

“Harucchi, I really gotta go!” Eijun exclaims after sending his address to his senior, already jumping to his feet. He knows how much of a clean-freak Narumiya is sometimes. His prior experience coming to Narumiya’s expensive apartment is enough of a proof. Born in a rich family, Narumiya has no problem hiring a maid service, but Eijun only has two hands. Narumiya would fret something along the lines of “I can’t get in the mood if my surrounding is messy, you brat!”, and Eijun really doesn’t want to babysit his senpai all night long.

“Be careful on the way,” Haruichi yells from the living room as Eijun wears his shoes.

“I will! Thanks for today!” he shouts back, opening the door. “For everything!” he adds, not bothering to wait for a response because he knows Haruichi’s heard him, and closes the door.

“Not bad,” Narumiya comments approvingly once he arrives, sticking his nose up in the air as he scans the room. He wriggles his coat—which probably costs more than Eijun’s apartment—off his shoulder and tosses it on the sofa.

“Do you need anything, senpai?” Eijun offers. Despite Narumiya’s penchant for being treated like a prince, he, himself, surprisingly also knows how to treat a guest properly whenever Eijun visits his apartment. Eijun might not have five-star gourmet dishes or a luxurious bathroom with marble tiles in his place, but at least Narumiya isn’t picky—not a total snob, unlike what everyone has assumed behind his back. “I just bought some shogayaki! Or you could use the showers first, if you want.”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Narumiya replies, jabbing his thumb towards the bed. “Can’t we just be naked and get down to our business?” he asks bluntly.

“Oh,” Eijun blinks, before grinning slyly, “are you that horny, senpai?”

“Cheeky brat,” the blonde scoffs as he begins to strip off his clothes. Eijun follows suit, discarding his shirt and pants, leaving only his boxer brief as he walks closer to the bed. There, Narumiya’s already sitting on the edge of the mattress, half-naked and looking impatient.

Eijun allows himself being pulled into a kiss, and Narumiya wastes no time to push him down onto the bed as it creaks under their weight. He’s always like this—getting straight into the business, no further words being exchanged during their activity, except occasional grunts or moans of pleasure later on. And Eijun’s never minded it before; be it with Narumiya or anyone else. Has never cared, precisely.

Whispers of sweet nothings are only reserved to lovers. They’re too intimate. So are love bites. Or spooning, or holding hands, or —

“You’re distracted,” Narumiya suddenly says with a slightly miffed tone, trying to draw Eijun’s attention by trailing wet kisses on his shoulder.

“Wait – “ realizing that he’s been far more submissive than he usually is, Eijun becomes a bit alerted at the teeth grazing the column of his neck, but then he hears Narumiya huffs.

“Relax, I still remember. No hickeys, no cuddles, no cum in the ass,” he explains, “I was just trying to snap you back into reality.”

“Do you have to be so crude about it?” Eijun grumpily mutters, peering up at Narumiya’s smug face after he lists Eijun’s top three rules for casual sex.

“Well, that’s my appeal,” the blonde shrugs in a confident manner. “A lot of guys and girls have tried to get into my pants because of it – “

“Why are you talking a lot so suddenly?” the pitcher interjects, scrunching up his nose. “I really don’t wanna hear you talking about your sexual adventure now.”

“You got distracted first,” Narumiya points out, a hint of irritation in his voice. “If you’re not feeling it tonight, we can stop,” he adds, sighing. “But you’re gonna have to make it up for me later, you hear that, brat?!”

And Eijun understands. A little. That’s Narumiya’s way of telling him that Eijun’s not just a sex doll to be used whenever the blonde needs him—and vice versa.

“No, let’s continue,” Eijun retorts with a determined gleam in his eyes. “Sorry for being distracted, senpai.”

Narumiya eyes him for a moment, as though inspecting for something—presumably, lies—in Eijun’s expression. It also gives a chance for Eijun to examine Narumiya’s face as those ocean blue irises pierce through Eijun’s golden ones.

Narumiya-senpai is attractive, he muses. It’s rare to find someone with natural blonde and blue eyes in Japan. Not to mention Narumiya’s lean, but well-built body. His wealth is just like the icing on the top.

Once or thrice, Eijun has wondered why the blonde has agreed to have this kind of arrangement with him, of all people. Narumiya’s never shy to admit his past sexual experiences with several guys and girls, to which Eijun concludes that Narumiya is popular enough to choose anyone other than him.

Their first meeting in a bar months ago isn’t special. Eijun believes it’s all due to the right moment and the right place.

Because the scenario was perfect: a stressed, college freshman, drinking himself an unhealthy amount of alcohol to the point he almost poisoned himself to death, met a heart-broken attractive sophomore who was on the brink of falling apart. They comforted each other, no surprise, but neither both of them are interested in a relationship. They fucked, once, and somehow, one encounter had led to one another.

And Eijun didn’t really regret it. Perhaps not yet, he never knows—he’s never been one to ponder about the future too much. The only thing Eijun regrets is his fucked-up lifestyle in his first year, which was fueled by the divorce of his parents by the time he got into college. Sure, he had wished his parents to separate countless of times, but when the reality was presented right before his eyes, it still came as a shock for him. On top of that, he had to face the death of his grandpa, the only adult who actually took care of him as a child because his parents were too busy strangling each other’s necks.

Things pretty much went awry since then; he was trying to find any distraction from his frantic, messy mind. He searched for dicks every night. He drank a gallon of booze. He almost got addicted to smoking. His only acceptable coping mechanisms were hitting the gym, practicing guitar and playing baseball.

None of them worked efficiently, until his arrangement with Narumiya had unintentionally saved him from straying further. It was all because of one simple reason: they couldn’t have sex in the dorms, due to the strict regulations about bringing someone in, so Eijun had to come to Narumiya’s apartment. And coming to his senpai’s place so frequently means he has to obey Narumiya as the owner. That includes no alcohol and cigarettes, since he basically dislikes the smell of smoke and surprisingly can’t handle much liquor. Eventually, Eijun began to forget about them, too. With Narumiya around, Eijun didn’t bother to search for other people to hook up with.

Narumiya, being an understanding friend as the time goes by, is honestly a bonus for Eijun.

This is fine, Eijun tells himself as the blonde proceeds his ministrations on the younger’s body. He makes sure to reciprocate with his own naughty fingers.

This much is harmless, he thinks again, when Narumiya chucks their underwears somewhere inside the room.

I won’t get hurt by this.

The velvety texture of a tongue greets his length. He lets out a low moan.

Harucchi is just being his worrywart self.

A finger prods around his twitching hole.

No one has coerced me into this. This is completely consensual.

He is sent into a mindless pleasure later, when Narumiya finally fucks him against the mattress. Between the hazy state of his mind, all of his senses are able to recognize that yes, this is the familiar feeling he’s always chased for. This is the reason of his addiction to casual sexual encounters.

He doesn’t need to be in a relationship to do this. Relationships don’t last. Just like his parents.

Even if there’s no romantic love or affection in every eyes of the guys Eijun’s slept with whenever he looks up at them. Even if there are no sparks or electrifying feelings his shoujo manga has described when their fingers brush against his skin. Even if there are no words of endearment being whispered to his ears, and his alone.

Eijun never fails to convince himself about that matter every night.

Yet, as he lies down beside a snoring Narumiya afterwards, with their backs facing each other like there’s a bold, strict line separating their position,

Eijun’s never felt colder.

Chapter Text

“Thank you for your purchase, have a nice day!”

The customer clumsily shoves the change inside her wallet, sending Eijun a quick, polite nod and scurries away from the conbini. When she’s out of sight, Eijun drops his plastic smile and stretches his hands above his head.

“Finally, the last customer!” he whoops, this time wearing a more sincere grin.

“Today is unusually packed, yeah?” Amahisa Kousei, his co-worker, arises from his crouch from behind the cashier counter and dusts his hands together.

Eijun hums in agreement, “I wonder why!”

“I’m glad we can work together, either way,” Amahisa says casually, sauntering over messily stacked snacks in one of the shelves. He places them back neatly, and speaks up again without turning towards Eijun. “You’re just so energetic, you know? I don’t even feel that exhausted. It’s like you’re sending more energy to me.”

Eijun’s grin morphs into something more bashful at Amahisa’s slightly awed tone. “Ahahaha! Don’t flatter me, senpai!”

“It’s true,” Amahisa replies quickly. He leans against the cashier counter, his face a bit too close with Eijun’s for the brunette’s liking. “You’re kinda amazing like that.”

“Oh..” Eijun blinks, uncertain what to retort. He coughs into his fist, his other hand planted firmly on his hips. “Well, this Sawamura Eijun is nothing but amazing!”

Amahisa laughs under his breath, and finally withdraws. “I guess I’ll tidy up some more.”

“Thanks for your help, senpai,” Eijun says gratefully.

“This is nothing,” Amahisa shrugs, smiling, “I can only do this much after all the things I put you through during the first month of our shift.”

At that, Eijun grimaces sheepishly. He and Amahisa-senpai didn’t have the best first impression, after all. Due to some personal reasons, his senpai used to slack off, begging Eijun to cover up his shifts. Even if he went to work, he’d constantly check on his girlfriend with his phone. It was only a matter of time that Eijun eventually exploded.

He still recalled vividly: him complaining rudely about Amahisa’s irresponsible acts in the back room. His formerly blonde haired senpai was quite stunned to say anything, and in the end, his senpai was absent for a few days.

Before his fight with his co-worker reached their boss’ ears, thankfully, Amahisa showed up again one day – hair all shaved and demeanour more friendly. That was when he started to pester Eijun more often, such as asking for his number and inviting him to hang out together.

An outcome that Eijun had never expected to happen, but now that he reevaluates the whole situation, Eijun’s rage was quite unnecessary. Even if it was highly influenced by his stressed state during his freshman year, that reason alone could hardly justify his wrongdoing. Not only he had risked to have a bad relationship with a co-worker, he’d also risked to taint his own work record. In lieu of throwing a fit, he should’ve reported his senpai to his boss.

His phone—which is already silenced for work hours—suddenly buzzed in his pocket, cutting off his chain of thoughts.

He’s so tempted to open it here, albeit playing with your phone at work without any crucial purposes is highly frowned on.

A peek would be okay , Eijun thinks as he fishes his phone out of his pocket and puts it atop of a lower hidden counter. He swiftly unlocks the device afterwards and checks the notification center.

Tanuki Bastard

I’m in the middle of work, Bakamura

Don’t spam me memes now

(delivered at 07.02 pm)

An involuntary small laugh escapes Eijun’s lips. It’s a message from his asshole of a neighbor, although he wouldn’t quite call him as a real asshole as he’d originally thought. A part of him wonders if he’s gotten more immune to Kazuya’s nasty personality after living as his neighbor for a month now.

Though, the time they’ve been spending on LINE has, apparently, rewarded Kazuya with an improvement in his online conversation skill. And thanks to Eijun always calling him an old man, he’s learned to send his own annoying free stickers and emoticons, and Eijun doesn’t know whether to be happy about that matter or not. If anything, the stickers help Eijun to visualize Kazuya’s obnoxious words better. He even has a set of tanuki stickers, much to Eijun’s displease.

Noticing there aren’t any customers yet, Eijun proceeds to type his reply.

Eijun

Does that mean that I can send more memes later („ಡωಡ„)

(delivered at 07.05 pm)

Another buzz from his phone.

Tanuki Bastard

No ( ˘ ³˘)♡

(delivered at 07.06 pm)

Eijun gawks at his screen, somehow finding the simple, short text even more aggravating with Kazuya’s newfound habit of using kaomojis.

Eijun

MIYUKI KAZUYA!!!

HOW CAN YOU EVEN TURN AN INNOCENT KAOMOJI INTO AN ANNOYING ONE!!! ヽ(●-`Д´-)ノ

(delivered at 07.06 pm)

Tanuki Bastard

Ahaha! Kaomojis are great

I wonder why I didn’t use them

This one even looks like you ( ` ◇ ´ )

(delivered at 07.07 pm)

Eijun grits his teeth.

Eijun

I DO NOT LOOK LIKE THAT ٩(//̀Д/́/)۶

GO BACK TO WORK YOU FOUR EYED JERK

(delivered at 07.07 pm)

Tanuki Bastard

[laughing tanuki sticker]

I’m gonna buy some food for break. Brb

Don’t miss me ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

(delivered at 07.08 pm)

Eijun puckers his lips, trying hard to conceal his smile. Trust Kazuya to toy with his mood effortlessly with just a few texts—Eijun’s not even sure if it’s normal to feel a sense of gaiety and indignation at one particular time.

“What are you smiling at?” Amahisa suddenly reappears in front of Eijun, earning a startled squeak from the latter.

“S-senpai!” He unconsciously shoves his phone to a more hidden corner of the lower counter. Unfortunately, Amahisa catches his not-so-subtle movement and laughs in amusement.

“Phone at work?” He teases, before patting a guilty-looking Eijun on the shoulder. “Relax, I’d be a total hypocrite if I called you out about that.”

“Sorry..” Eijun purses his lips in slight embarassment, realizing that Amahisa’s words can be applied to Eijun as well. He was the one who had scolded his own senpai for frequently using phone at work, and now he ends up doing the same thing.

“Don’t be,” Amahisa says more sternly, “and don’t compare yourself with what I did. You never slack off, unlike me. Playing with your phone once or twice isn’t going to discredit your whole hardwork here.”

Once again, Eijun doesn’t know what to remark. There’s a certain indecipherable glimmer in Amahisa’s caramel irises as his senpai stares at him. And this isn’t the first time Eijun has received that look—he might be a bit oblivious, but even he can sometimes sense Amahisa gazing at Eijun’s back whenever the other man is out of sight.

“You’re thinking of me too highly, senpai!” Eijun finally answers, cackling awkwardly, “I mean, I didn’t use it for any important reasons, so please don’t hesitate to reprimand this Sawamura Eijun if he dares to violate the law again!”

Amahisa laughs—he’s been doing that a lot with Eijun recently—while shaking his head. “Haha! As I said, don’t worry about it, Sawamura-kun,” he reassures, still grinning. “So, I take it that you were chatting with a special someone?”

Eijun goes rigid at the question.

He’s always avoided to talk about his love life to everyone and his close friends, to the point that some of them eventually took notice and never outrightly inquired him about that matter anymore. Eijun’s aware that he’s becoming more touchy about the topic for some unknown reason, for it always twists his insides uncomfortably each time it’s brought up. He also has never bothered to find out the reason of his odd behavior. He’s decided, long ago, that he just simply dislikes people asking about his nonexistent lover because he has never wanted or needed one in the first place.

However, this time, Amahisa’s question gives him the implication of Miyuki Kazuya being Eijun’s boyfriend, and it successfully sends a weird, tingling sensation inside his gut for a fleeting moment.

Eijun recovers fast, and snorts in disbelief. Impossible. Why would Eijun change his lifelong principle about relationships just because of Kazuya? Eijun has never fallen in love with anyone, and certainly not now—not to the stupidly attractive, yet infuriating Miyuki Kazuya. Besides, he’s always enjoyed the dynamic of their somewhat-friendship.

And that’s enough for Eijun.

“Of course not!” The brunette crosses his arms in front of his chest. “They’re messages from my neighbor, senpai! And he’s just a jerk who has a nasty hobby of making fun of other people! Why would I date someone like him?!”

“But you were smiling,” Amahisa points out.

Eijun widens his eyes a little, somehow caught off guard. “Oh—uhh, he can be funny and nice sometimes,” he grumbles begrudgingly, “but most of the time he’s like a conniving tanuki anyway! So that doesn’t matter!”

“So he’s really not your boyfriend?” Amahisa asks somewhat more urgently, like there’s a desperate, hopeful tone to his voice.

“No,” Eijun confirms firmly.

“And you don’t have a girlfriend, too?”

“No,” Eijun replies, a bit impatient. What’s with all of these questions?

Amahisa observes him carefully, making the brunette a bit uneasy, before he exhales with a suspiciously relieved smile. “Okay, okay.”

“Why are you asking?” Eijun narrows his eyes.

“Won’t it kill to know more about you, Sawamura-kun?” Amahisa grins, as he ruffles Eijun’s hair messily. The latter huffs and jerks his head away.

There’s a sound of the glass door being pushed open. Eijun is the first one to turn around out of reflex, mouth opening to greet the customer with a practiced, polite welcoming words. But when his eyes lock with the customer’s own, Eijun can’t help but to gape instead.

“M-Miyuki Kazuya?!” the pitcher shouts, pointing a finger at his neighbor. Kazuya blinks at the unexpected encounter, before his face slips back into his usual smirk.

“Why, if it isn’t Noisymura,” he drawls, burying one of his hands into his pocket. “Never thought you’d work here.”

Amahisa, who’s watching the scene, wordlessly busies himself with another messy shelves, not wanting to interrupt them.

“What are you doing here?” Eijun regards Kazuya’s decent, assumably, work clothing: white shirt layered with a gray wool cashmere cardigan, and black trousers.

“I made it clear that I wanted to grab some food for break, now didn’t I, Bakamura?” Kazuya sneers, guiding his feet towards a shelf of many bread varities. He levels himself to grab a curry pan and a cream pan.

“Do.. do you work anywhere near here?” Eijun questions after processing the information. He and Kazuya have never told each other about their workplace, so the possibility of Kazuya working nearby is exciting—they could meet more often and even go home together!

Kazuya straightens his back and shrugs. “You can say that. Central Library is just a few buildings away from here.”

“Oh,” Eijun says dumbly. He’s never really paid attention to Central Library, despite it being a huge, modern building that certainly stands out compared to others. And he’s never been a fan of libraries anyway. It’s too quiet, and Eijun’s butt would itch if he sits for too long.

However, the idea of Kazuya working there strangely suits him. Eijun allows himself to drift into a small reverie where Kazuya is stacking and organizing scattered books back on the shelf. Or maybe he’d work behind the counters—having the duty to help patrons to locate their reading materials. Or maybe he’d just read some books in his free time, sitting while crossing his legs in that elegant way of his Eijun saw several times during their train ride to the campus.

The southpaw gulps.

Wouldn’t that make him one hell of a hot librarian—?

CLANK.

“WHA—“ Eijun stumbles back, and glares at the laughing culprit before him who just slammed a can of coffee on the counter. “Don’t surprise me like that, bastard!”

“Not my fault you got surprised,” Kazuya smirked.

They proceed to drown themselves into a harmless bicker as Eijun scans the products with practiced motion. Kazuya pays and immediately tears the package of the curry bread open even before he receives the change from Eijun.

“Oh, anyway,” Kazuya says after swallowing a mouthful of bread. “Keep this one.” He flicks the cream bread on the counter and snatches his can of coffee.

“What? You don’t want it anymore?” Eijun asks dumbly, to which Kazuya snorts in amusement.

“It’s too sweet for me,” the catcher mumbles, taking a bite of his bread again.

“Then why did you buy it – “ Eijun frowns, scrutinizing Kazuya who’s currently fidgeting, before he breaks into a wide smile. “Don’t tell me you’ve been planning to give this to me all along, Miyuki Kazuya?”

“Someone has to do it,” Kazuya avoids his eyes and pivots his heels towards the door. Eijun can catch his slightly reddening ears although the catcher has his back towards him. “See you later, neighbor-kun.”

As he watches Kazuya’s figure disappear through the door, Eijun clutches the bread in his hand with a strange prickling sensation crawling to his chest.

“He really should stop acting like he’s not nice,” Eijun mutters, staring absently at the bread. And Eijun means it. He can tell that Kazuya’s been warming up towards him more, especially since the last time they talked about their families at the park. What Eijun can’t grasp is the reason behind his own heart doing somersaults whenever Kazuya’s being nice to him.

Maybe it’s the duality that Kazuya exhibits in his nature—after all, his ability to be kind and exasperating at the same time is the premise of why Eijun was intrigued to befriend him in the first place.

“So, he was the neighbor?” Amahisa suddenly inquires, magically appearing in front of Eijun again. “You sure he’s not your boyfriend?” he adds with a teasing tone.

Eijun huffs and opens the bread package. “One hundred percent sure!” he answers with no hesitance, ignoring his staggering heart.

He bites into his bread, savoring the cream inside as it spreads onto his taste buds pleasantly, before humming in contentment.

Eijun’s tried this bread before, but somehow, this time it tastes a thousand times better than usual.

He wonders why.

Thanks to his accidental discovery of Eijun’s workplace, Kazuya can’t say that he likes how his mind automatically supplies a mental image of Eijun’s face whenever he spots a convenience store. Even the one at their own campus.

Kazuya’s only been working at the library for a couple of months now, and he’s always made sure to come to work with a full stomach and a bottle of water from home so that he won’t have to spend money later. He’s always known that there’s a conbini just a few buildings away, but he’s never once stepped his feet inside. Not until that day.

And, well. Kazuya’s not sure what to think of this situation—to be in the same vicinity with Sawamura Eijun most of the time; be it at their apartment or their campus. Adding their workplaces to the list is almost overwhelming to him, although they only have one shared work day in a week.

Despite that, Kazuya somehow finds himself going back to the conbini each time he’s on break, and this is probably his third visit already. Obviously not to see Eijun, because that store only happens to sell his favorite brand of coffee.

Kazuya laughs dryly to himself as he pushes the glass door open. Predictably, Eijun is there, peering over his direction curiously, before his lips split into a warm beam.

“Miyuki!” he says.

“Aren’t you supposed to say some long, scripted greetings or something?” Kazuya arches an eyebrow.

Eijun huffs and crosses his arms. “I only do that to respectful customers!!”

“You’re forgetting that I’m one of your sources of paycheck, huh?”

“Th-That’s – “ Eijun sputters out, turning cat-eyed. One of Kazuya’s favorite reactions of his. “Don’t put it that way, Miyuki Kazuya!!”

Kazuya only shrugs, throwing Eijun his winning smirk, before lazily trudging towards a shelf of packaged rice balls. He takes his time to choose a flavor of his liking, but his ear manages to catch Eijun’s voice talking to a bald guy.

Ah, that bald guy, Kazuya muses as he recalls of his past visits. Okay, maybe he’s not exactly bald, but Kazuya’s associated him with the nickname Baldy. He seems to be a co-worker of Eijun’s, and everytime Kazuya enters the store, he somehow can feel him eyeing Kazuya cautiously, as if searching for something . Kazuya, too, becomes a bit guarded around him, especially when he sees the way Baldy carries himself in front of Eijun.

Like now.

Eijun is now laughing toothily with Baldy again, but from the corner of Kazuya’s eyes, the catcher can view Baldy leaning forward ever so slightly towards his neighbor, a soft smile playing on his thick lips. His hand would occasionally brush against some part of Eijun’s body in what one could interpret as friendly gestures and, thankfully, not some form of harassment.

He looks like he’s getting along with Eijun like they were born from the same womb—which isn’t weird because Eijun has always been a people-magnet like that—but another side of Kazuya’s brain insists that Baldy is suspicious. Unlikeable. And Kazuya fails to understand why.

Irritation seeps into his chest as Kazuya snatches some packages of onigiri into his hands, no longer caring of the flavor. He quickly grabs his usual brand of coffee from the cooler alongside with Eijun’s favorite chocolate milk, before strutting closer to the cashier where Baldy and his neighbor are still laughing at something.

Kazuya’s never felt so out of place, and he blames it on them (on Baldy). He dislikes how they’re treating him like he doesn’t exist right now, and that should not be how they treat a customer.

Yeah, that must be the reason why he feels disgruntled everytime he sees them together.

An urge to interrupt them arises, one that Kazuya can’t resist, so he slams his can of coffee on the counter while clearing his throat, earning a startled response from both of them.

“Miyuki Kazuya! Stop doing that!” Eijun chastises with a scowl. Kazuya rolls his eyes and opts to say nothing as he watches Eijun scanning all of his purchases. When the pitcher scans the last item, which is the chocolate milk, his cheeks redden a bit as he shyly glances at Kazuya.

“Is this.. yours, too?” he mumbles.

“Do I look like someone who would drink chocolate milk?” Kazuya inquires back, lifting an eyebrow.

Eijun purses his lips, looking conflicted. “Is it really okay?” he asks again, “I mean, you keep on buying me something whenever you come here.. you don’t have to do that, you know.”

“So you don’t want it?”

“That’s not what I – “

“Don’t think too much, idiot,” Kazuya sighs before slapping some cash on the counter with a smirk. “That’s my job.”

His last words could refer both to his insult or to his sugar-daddy behavior towards Eijun although he’s in no way rich and old, but either way, it rewards him with a bristling Eijun as always.

“You- ugh, I don’t know if you’re trying to be nice or nasty! Choose one, Miyuki Kazuya!”

Kazuya lets out a small, genuine chuckle, and spares a brief gander towards Baldy with a triumphant face. He swears that there’s a challenging gleam on Baldy’s eyes before he strolls to another direction of the store with an amused smile.

Strangely, Baldy looks so laid-back and unbothered about Kazuya’s exchange with his co-worker and that fact somehow irks Kazuya more than he’d admit.

He’s about to retort Eijun’s words if not for his phone suddenly blaring from inside his pocket. He hurriedly fishes out the device and presses his lips into a thin line upon seeing the caller’s ID.

Narumiya Mei

“Sorry, gotta go,” Kazuya informs Eijun, not waiting for his response as the catcher snatches his change and purchases from the counter, leaving the chocolate milk behind. Cold night wind greets his face when he exits the store and answers the call.

“Oi, what’s – “

“KAZUYA!!!”

Kazuya’s ear rings and he winces as he immediately withdraws his phone away from his ear. “What the hell, Mei,” Kazuya hisses.

There’s a huff from the other side of the line. “I’m at the Central Library but you’re not here! You know that I hate to waste my time waiting for people! ”

Eyes widening, Kazuya stutters a bit. “What—what are you doing there? We didn’t even make any plans together!”

“Good joke, Kazuya. You wouldn’t want to get out of your mattress if someone didn’t literally pull you out. ”

Whatever remark Kazuya’s wanted to say dies down in his throat. Mei has a point—God knows how many times Kazuya has avoided social gatherings and parties by making excuses while he’s snuggling under his covers and enjoying his steaming cup of coffee.

Eventually, he sighs. “So.. what do you want, Your Highness?”

Mei’s not physically in front of him, but Kazuya knows he’s pleased by the nickname, sarcastic or not. “Have some booze in our system, what else?”

“You mean, your system. I don’t drink.”

Mei boos. “Party pooper, aren’t you, Kazuya? When was the last time you drink? ”

Long time ago, Kazuya wryly muses to himself. He doesn’t really hate alcohols and bars, precisely. Simply put, he just dislikes how alcohols make him painfully transparent and predictable around other people. Not being able to control himself is so much worst than having a hangover the next morning.

“Aren’t you being a hypocrite?” Kazuya snorts. “You’re a lightweight, Mei. You don’t drink unless you really need it.”

The other line is then silent, confirming Kazuya’s assumption. “If you’re not coming here in five minutes, I’m gonna write your number in a public bathroom stall .”

Kazuya curses under his breath—he’d accept anything but pranks that involve booty calls from strangers. “That’s such a lame, classic prank coming out of you,” he says nonetheless with an eye roll. Mei lets out an indignant respond and other creative threats before he hangs up, leaving Kazuya with no choice but to fulfill Mei’s wish.

“Real mature, Mei,” Kazuya groans as he sprints towards his workplace.

The izakaya they go downtown isn’t as empty as Mei thought, but that doesn’t stop them to sit down and enjoy their orders. Mei’s already on his second drink, looking oddly comfortable among rowdy middle-aged men smelling of cigarettes and sake. Kazuya’s always known that Mei’s not a complete snob despite of his wealthy family background, but seeing Mei being down-to-earth is still an amusing, rare sight to behold.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a western-style bar?” Kazuya asks as he eyes Mei’s expensive-looking leather jacket, inwardly fearing it to get stained.

“Huuuh?” The blonde slurs. “You know me better than that, Kazuya. Contrary to popular beliefs, I don’t add gold to my drink.”

“Someone really made that rumor?” Kazuya sweatdrops, before inhaling his warm ocha. The two childhood friends spend the next several minutes talking about random things, and Kazuya secretly finds it nice to catch up with one of his longtime friends.

Is this the reason why Sawamura likes to go out ? He can’t help but to think, only to mentally slap himself afterwards. Why does Eijun like to pop inside his head more often recently?

“Anyway,” he says quickly, “how did you find my workplace?”

“Had to ask Kuramochi,” Mei replies, curling his lips downwards. He and Kuramochi have never been on good terms, but they don’t exactly loathe each other, either. “One thing I have yet to find out is your apartment,” he side-glances Kazuya.

The latter smirks. “Sorry, that one’s confidential. I asked everyone who knows my address to keep their mouth shut.”

Mei slams a fist on the table, face flushed due to the alcohol. “Even after these years, you still have a stick up in your ass, geez ,” the blonde hiccups. “Stop being so secretive, Kazuya, you jerk. Go have some fun and get laid.”

“I’m not going to talk about my sex life to you,” Kazuya grunts, picking up a sushi with his chopstick and shoves it into his mouth. Not that I have one, he adds as an afterthought bitterly.

Mei squints, scrutinizing Kazuya up and down with his blue eyes, before he opens his mouth. “You know, you’re hot for an asshole.”

Kazuya instantly chokes on his sushi.

“Before your head gets big – “ Mei hiccups once again, “ – no, I’m not hitting on you. Just wondering why you haven’t gotten laid with your face,” he drawls out his words.

“Are we back on this topic again?” Kazuya groans, covering his face with his hands. “Rude for you to assume that I haven’t.”

“I can tell that someone’s a virgin just by one look.”

“Very believable, Mei,” Kazuya deadpans, quirking an eyebrow. “And you’re totally not drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” Mei protests, glaring at the brunette. “Fine, how about we talk about my life! Yours is boooring.”

“Feel free to tell me your whole autobiography,” Kazuya quips back dryly.

“So, first of all,” Mei inhales as though preparing for an important speech, “We’re gonna talk about how hot I am.”

“Wow, how exciting!”

Mei ignores Kazuya’s comment and proceeds to slur his words, “you know what? It’s not something that can be discussed because it’s already an indisputable fact. And I’m definitely hotter than you, because a lot of people wants a taste of my dick – “

Kazuya shoots him a look of disgust. “I really did not need to hear that – “

“ – but I don’t get how some people don’t want me !” Mei finishes with a whine. Tears swell on his eyes. “How can someone not get attracted to me?! I’m not lacking anywhere!”

“For starters, maybe you can fix your personality – “ Kazuya flatly suggests, but the blonde cuts him off with a snarl.

“Ugh, fuck off, take that advice to yourself!” Mei juts out his tongue childishly. “I had several girlfriends and boyfriends before, so why haven’t you gotten one in your life?” he bristles, “that means my personality’s better than you, you jerk!”

“Is attacking me really necessary?” Kazuya mutters under his breath, slightly miffed at Mei’s jab. For all he knows, he could, in fact, date five guys or girls at the same time if he wanted to, seeing how many people had confessed to him in high school. Kazuya just chose not to. Mainly due to some reasons he can’t just blurt out to someone—not even to Mei or Kuramochi.

So Kazuya sighs, feeling a headache surfacing from inside his head. “Listen, can you just tell me what bothers you so I can go back to my place and have my beauty sleep sooner?”

Mei throws him a look, “you’re trash, Kazuya.”

“So I’ve been told,” Kazuya casually shrugs with a smirk.

This time, the blonde exhales tiredly and slowly lowers his head, his nose almost making a contact with the table. His demeanour changes as Kazuya notes how Mei’s shoulders slump.

Mei takes his time before he eventually speaks up with an uncharacteristically small voice. “I have a fuck buddy.”

Whatever problem that Kazuya has expected Mei to have, that certainly isn’t one of them.

“Fuck buddy?” Kazuya parrots back a bit dumbly.

“Fuck buddy,” Mei confirms lazily, “y’know, someone you fuck for – “

“I know what it is,” Kazuya retorts although he’s aware that Mei’s only teasing him, evident by his drunken snickers.

“Just in case,” the blonde replies, shrugging. “Anyway, I’ve been fucking him for months now. I guess he’s pretty cute. A bit too loud sometimes, but I forgive him, since he knows how to put that mouth of his into a good use – “

“Too much information,” Kazuya comments with a wince. He hopes that he doesn’t know this person – he wouldn’t know how to act.

Mei snorts before taking a sip of his drink. “Oh, shush. He’s a sophomore in the communication department. There’s a slim chance of you knowing him.”

“Right,” Kazuya absently agrees as he supports his elbow on the table and props his chin on his palm. He only knows one person that fits the category, which is the one and only Sawamura Eijun, but he doesn’t even want to think about the possibility of Mei and Eijun knowing each other. “So.. where’s the problem?”

Once again, the blonde exhales heavily, brows furrowing as his face turns somber. His blue orbs dim, slightly glossy with unshed tears. He looks frustrated, with how he grasps at his shot glass firmly.

“I have a fuck buddy, yet I’m in love with someone else,” he admits, voice almost a whisper. “He’s a total nerd, has never been my type, but I love him.”

Kazuya’s eyes widen.

“I’ve been trying to move on from him by having this fucking arrangement with someone,” Mei continues as he shakes his head. “I can’t. I fucking can’t, Kazuya.”

Kazuya swallows upon hearing the information. Truth be told, he’s not sure what to respond – as pathetic as it sounds, friends with benefits is an abstract concept for him, for it is something he’s only seen in movies. And personally, Kazuya can’t imagine himself being physically intimate with a stranger, moreover a friend, or at least someone he knows.

He still voices out his thoughts, nevertheless.

“So,” Kazuya begins. “You’re trying to fall in love with your fuck buddy instead.”

“Yeah,” Mei nods. “And I always end up imagining that goddamn nerd’s face, whenever we fuck,” he looks up at Kazuya with a humorless grin. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“I don’t really understand,” Kazuya says, returning Mei’s gaze in confusion. “Your fuck buddy basically uses you too, you know? It’s not like he’s in love with you,” he rises an eyebrow, “so why do you feel guilty, Mei?”

At his answer, Mei gapes at Kazuya in astonishment, blinking away his drunkenness and looking more sober than before. “Well- because.. because I dragged him into my problem?”

“He agreed for a reason,” Kazuya points out.

Mei licks his lips as he shifts his gaze to the table again. “So.. You’re saying that I shouldn’t stop sleeping with him?”

“I didn’t say that,” the catcher scratches the back of his head. Damn it, he’s not the right person to talk about this kind of thing. “Just do whatever you think is right, I guess.”

“Huh,” Mei picks up his shot glass and smiles into his drink with a more relaxed posture. “For a virgin, you give good insights.”

“I’m ending this so-called friendship.”

Mei cackles with a carefree manner, prompting Kazuya’s lips to curl upwards. He’s kind of glad that Mei’s satisfied enough with his answers, albeit even Kazuya himself is uncertain whether he’s really helped Mei with his words.

By the end of the night, Kazuya’s somehow managed to persuade Mei into paying the bills, not without the blonde protesting (though, he concedes a bit easier than usual, so Kazuya has a hunch that he’s only doing it for show) before they split up to their respective destinations, not after he's made sure that Mei is sober enough to not get lost or crash into the nearest lamp post.

The walk to his apartment is brisk and cold, accompanied with the dark, starless sky. It’s quiet all over again, no sounds of other humans nearby. Kazuya can’t say he truly minds; silence, after all, is something that Kazuya’s familiarized himself for years as a result of living in a house with a distant father.

Then, his phone dings and draws him from his thoughts.

Bakamura

MIYUKI KAZUYA

WHY AREN’T YOU HOME YET?!!

(delivered at 10.11 pm) 

ANSWER MEEEMEMEMEMEM

WHERE ARE YOU

ARE YOU LOSY

*lost

(delivered at 11.32 pm)

Miyuki-senpai?

I’m sorry I spammed you

I was just worried

[crying shiba inu sticker]

(delivered at 11.37 pm) 

New messages (5)

Uhhh.. you’re a jerk but

wherever you are.. please stay safe

Call this Sawamura Eijun if you need help!!

I’m actually a light sleeper so I wake up rather easily

Good night!! (╯︵╰,)

(delivered at 11.46 pm)

Kazuya stares at his phone screen in disbelief. Eijun’s worried about him. Someone actually worries for Kazuya. Normally, that mundane fact would sound ridiculous for the catcher, for he knows that he can perfectly take care of himself for years, yet, he feels a honey warm sensation filling a gap inside his chest until it spills out, making him unable to contain a smile as he types back his response quickly.

Well, maybe his life isn’t as quiet as it used to be.

Chapter Text

Eijun hums to himself, head nodding at the gentle tune he’s currently creating with his guitar strings. He settles for a slap strum through out his entire mindless, little performance, almost getting lost inside his own world if not for the subtle sound of a sliding glass door from Kazuya’s balcony. The pitcher looks up curiously from his position, for some reason half-expecting Kazuya to show up shirtless like last time, only to find the catcher wearing an ugly looking sweater.

“I can see you preparing to insult my wardrobe again from miles away, Bakamura,” Kazuya dryly says, to which Eijun grins unrepentantly. “I should be the one insulting your weird habit of playing guitar every goddamn morning on weekends,” he adds, massaging his temple.

“Tsk tsk,” Eijun shakes his head in disapproval, “you should learn to be productive in the morning, Miyuki Kazuya! You know what they say—“ he fingerpicks the guitar strings as a build-up for his next words, “—the early bird always gets the worm!” Eijun finally strums his guitar for a dramatic effect.

“But the second mouse gets the cheese,” Kazuya shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Your point?”

Eijun turns cat-eyed, scowling. “It wouldn’t hurt to agree with me just once, bastard tanuki.”

“Opinions exist to create diverse social dynamics, you know – “

“Then I’ll make you agree with me!” Eijun stands up from his seat, one hand gripping the neck of his guitar and the other pointing rudely at Kazuya.

“Hoo? I’d love to see you try,” his neighbor retorts back with a lazy smirk.

Eijun huffs. One of these days, he’s going to completely wipe that stupid smirk off his face.

“Well, since you asked for it!” Eijun then pulls his lips into a grin as he begins to amble back to his apartment, sensing how Kazuya’s eyes are following him curiously. “Wait for me there, Miyuki Kazuya!”

“What?” Kazuya widens his eyes slightly. “What are you—what do you mean?”

Eijun stops on his track entirely and throws a well, duh expression over his shoulder. “I’m coming to your place, what else?”

In an instant, panic takes over Kazuya’s face. “Oi, hold on,” he hurriedly says. “What are you even going to do here?”

“Lots of things! Hanging out doesn’t need real plans, does it?” Eijun cheerfully answers, lightly shaking the guitar in his hand, “or you can let me fulfill my promise of teaching you guitar. How about that?”

Kazuya, however, only stares back at him, a frown adorning his forehead, which is a sign of his overthinking habit. The more it frequently occurs, the more Eijun understands that Kazuya shows his emotions through unconscious body languages. The time they have spent together allows Eijun to learn the smallest details about Kazuya, and it gains him the ability to see how transparent Miyuki Kazuya actually is.

It excites him. He might not be able to read Kazuya like an open book, not yet, but he’s getting there soon. And Eijun can’t deny that he feels good about it—making friends is one of Eijun’s forte, after all.

Friends, huh, he muses, finding the label a bit weird to be used on Kazuya. They’re friends, aren’t they? It’s a common word in Eijun’s personal dictionary, and he has no qualms to throw that word to everyone he deems as one.

Kazuya and Eijun have come this far; surely, they’ve passed the line of acquintances, no?

“So he’s really not your boyfriend?” Amahisa’s words suddenly echoes inside his head, making his whole body freeze.

What the hell, he frowns, where did that come from?

“...Fine,” Eijun hears Kazuya’s defeated sigh as he rubs the back of his neck. “Just this once.”

Pushing back any unnecessary thoughts into the deepest part of his mind, Eijun sends him a broad smile. “Oshi! I’ll be at your door in a flash!” He cackles loudly and sprints out of his apartment, ignoring Kazuya’s scold of ‘oi, slow down, idiot!’.

And true to his words, he’s already in front of Kazuya’s door in less than five seconds, and is now banging on the wooden door, making it rattle.

There’s a small click of the door being unlocked, and Kazuya’s upset expression comes into view when the door is opened. “I’m regretting this already,” he mumbles, opening the door wider as an invitation.

“Dahaha! Rest assured, I’ll be the best guest you’ve ever had, Miyuki Kazuya!” Stepping inside, he bows slightly. “Pardon the intrusion!” he shouts.

Kazuya sighs as he awkwardly pushes his glasses up his nose. “You know, I’m not gonna humor you much just because you’re here. I haven’t had breakfast, so I’m gonna be in the kitchen.”

“Does that mean I can have a solo tour?” Eijun asks excitedly, gripping the strap of his guitar.

“Just.. Don’t touch or rummage anything,” Kazuya mutters, before heading towards the kitchen, his soft steps of socked feet against the floor gradually diminishing.

Eijun then regards the whole apartment thoroughly. Although they have similar layout and furnitures, he’s astonished upon finding out that Kazuya’s place isn’t as tidy as he would’ve thought, since Eijun has always seen him as an organized person. Granted, his place doesn’t have the same kind of messy like Eijun’s apartment. He doesn’t have scattered unfolded laundries on the floor. He doesn’t have crumpled music sheets or a pile of condom supplies inside his drawers. Heck, he doesn’t even have any photo frames of his family, his friends, or anyone around his apartment.

Instead, he merely finds an old laptop, thick books, papers and stationaries atop of Kazuya’s desk. There’s a spare blanket, draped carelessly on the couch in the living room, and a game console in front of the TV, much to Eijun’s surprise.

“You play video games?” Eijun asks when he infiltrates the kitchen, but ends up gasping in awe upon spotting several pots and pans on the wall. He lets out an ‘Oooooh!’ as he curiously steps closer to inspect various kinds of knives atop of the counter.

“Not really, that game console is Kuramochi’s,” Kazuya shrugs while chopping the onions, before moving to beat the eggs. His moves are fast and efficient, yet, there’s a certain pleased gleam in his eyes and a thin smile on his lips when he’s working.

A ticklish, butterfly sensation flutters inside Eijun, as he can’t help himself but to feel mesmerized at the sight before him.

With an ugly sweater, a loose sweatpants, thick socks, and messy bed hair, Kazuya has never looked so unguarded; has never looked like an ordinary person with no protective bricks around him.

All he sees before him is a small part of Miyuki Kazuya’s life inside his humble apartment, and somehow, Eijun wants—needs—to see more.

And truthfully, while Eijun has visited other apartments, it’s mostly due to his past sexual encounters with strangers back then—which is something that he doesn’t do often now. He didn’t bother staying over and preferred to disappear before the sun itself woke up. Now that he thinks about it, with the existence of bars or izakayas, he doesn’t find the need to hang out at someone’s place—although Haruichi’s place is an exception.

Even so, he had never felt this ridiculous, thoughtless wonder of living with someone else when he visited the pink haired man’s place.

So why Miyuki Kazuya?

It’s not like Eijun abruptly wants to room with him, too—he’s had enough of roommates, for he used to live in dorms, full of rowdy teenage-soon-to-be-young adult males.

So what exactly is this feeling?

“Sawamura?” Kazuya calls out, glancing over Eijun’s direction, but not neglecting the pan in front of him.

Eijun redirects his attention to the sizzling sound from the pan, the heavenly waft of food taking over his senses. “Yes?!” he belatedly replies.

“I might have.. cooked a bit too much than my usual portion,” Kazuya coughs into his fist before turning the stove off. “You can have some, if you haven’t eaten,” he shrugs without looking at Eijun.

The pitcher eagerly approaches him from behind and peeks over Kazuya’s shoulder. “This Sawamura Eijun never says no to food!” he answers with a broad beam. “What are we having?” he turns his neck to the left, only to have his face inches from Kazuya, whose eyes are as wide as saucers.

Warmth floods Eijun’s cheeks, before he quickly retreats and stands in a safer proximity. Frustration builds up in his chest; what is he getting all red for? He’s not a shoujo manga protagonist, god damn it! He might still be an avid reader of shoujo mangas—even until now—but at one point, even someone as dumb as him soon realizes how love truly works in reality.

And it is something that he doesn’t want to associate himself with. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

Wait, then since when did ‘love’ and ‘Miyuki Kazuya’ even belong in the same context?!

“Sawamura?” Kazuya asks again, voice laced with concern. “You’re really red.. are you sick?” he places a hand against Eijun’s forehead, startling the pitcher who’s currently having an internal emotional turmoil.

What kind of shoujo manga scene is this?! He hisses inwardly, before stepping away from Kazuya.

“UHH—NOTHING! Now, let’s go eat, Miyuki Kazuya! You shouldn’t leave your guest starving, after all!” he laughs loudly, cat-eyed and nervous. “Then, I shall be waiting somewhere!” he shouts as he stomps his way out of the kitchen.

“...Sure?” Is all Kazuya  says, arching a brow while taking out two clean plates.

This isn’t how Eijun has imagined his first visit to his neighbor’s place.

Fortunately, earlier, his mouth was too occupied with Kazuya’s suprisingly delicious cooking so that his brain had no chance to think of any weird things. But now, he’s all alone in Kazuya’s living room, resting his back against the blanket covered couch. And that’s when dangerous thoughts strike again.

The blanket smells like Kazuya. Eijun doesn’t know why he concludes it that way, because, for some reason, the way Kazuya’s cologne smells has always been imprinted into his mind. He’d be lying if he says Kazuya doesn’t smell nice—too nice, even, that he finds himself wanting to lean closer and takes a deep inhale.

He slaps his cheek after that, because he can’t think of his own.. friend that way.

And apparently, Kazuya’s not lying when he said that he won’t humor Eijun much even if they’re in the same vicinity. So right now, they’re doing their own thing, although what Eijun does is merely lazying on the couch.

Kazuya’s still washing the dishes after stubbornly refusing Eijun’s offer to help him, too worried that the pitcher would break something (“I’M NOT THAT CLUMSY!” “Yeah, yeah~”). Alongside the ticking clock, Eijun can hear the sound of the running water from the sink and occasional clinks of the utensils.

Once he’s done, he tells Eijun to give him time to take a bath, to which Eijun gives a thumbs up as an affirmation. From the couch, he observes how Kazuya walks from one room to one another, carrying a basket of dried laundries in one second, and then slinging a towel around his neck the next moment.

Perhaps, other people would’ve deemed him as rude for ignoring a guest, but Eijun doesn’t mind in the slightest. He was the one who brought up the idea of ‘hanging out’ with the older man in the first place. And truthfully, watching how Kazuya takes care of himself is oddly satisfying for Eijun.

He really, really doesn’t mind having this routine with Kazuya.

Because it all occurs so... naturally.

He’s never paid any extra attention to the sounds of someone washing dishes in his house back then. He’s never had the opportunity to watch anyone in his house waltzing around to do their own business. Even if he did, he wouldn’t find peace by watching their rigid postures and scowls on their faces. The air was too thick with unresolved conflict; hence why he’d rather spend more time outside of the house with his friends.

And that’s mainly the reason why Eijun has an overflowing affection for his friends, for they have always been a crucial part of Eijun’s life.

But.

He’s never resonated with someone so perfectly before, until Kazuya comes into the picture. He’s never felt so appeased with the mere appearance of someone around his radar.

More importantly, he’s never felt this confused whether to call someone a friend or not. And frankly, this has become an eternal discourse inside his own head ever since Amahisa had planted the idea of Kazuya being Eijun’s special someone.

Or, in other words, being Eijun’s b-boyfrie—

Eijun slaps his cheeks harder than before.

“WAHAHA! WHY WOULD YOU THINK OF HIM THAT WAY!” He chastises himself as he jumps off the couch to wander aimlessly around the living room. He disregards the sound of splattering water from Kazuya’s bathroom, and tries hard to not think of a totally naked Kazuya, just a door away.

Yeah, totally not. Even though Eijun is very well aware of Kazuya’s perfectly sculpted abs underneath his abhorrent choice of fashion. He’s absolutely not drowning in his reveries of how the water would cascade down Kazuya’s body, or the way his brown strands would stick on his forehead, complemented by his infuriating, yet attractive smirk—

Eijun then slams his head against the nearest cabinet beside the television, inadvertently causing a box to fall down from the highest part of the furniture.

“Eh?” he blinks, squinting quizzically at it. It’s a small, carton box, looking a bit dusty, but it’s already opened with a careful manner. Eijun curiously lifts it with his hand, not before sparing a glance towards Kazuya’s bathroom door. The cover of the box is really simple; in fact, it’s pure white without any pictures or letters. Shaking it slightly, it seems to contain something—an object.

Although he was feeling a little bad for rummaging Kazuya’s belongings, especially when Kazuya had told him not to, Eijun decides that taking a small peek of it won’t hurt. Jutting out a tongue against his upper lip, Eijun slowly peels the package open.

What comes into his view next is a butt-shaped fleshlight, and a small bottle of lube shoved beside it.

Despite being a sexually active young adult, Eijun screams and drops the box onto the floor.

“Sawamura?” come Kazuya’s voice from the bathroom, making Eijun’s heart jump.

Cheeks flaming, the pitcher squeaks as he hastily stands on the balls of his feets to reach the top of the cabinet and successfully places the box back to its original spot. “YES?!” he then yells, cat-eyed.

Kazuya reveals himself from the bathroom while drying his hair with a towel. “What did you do when I was gone?”

Eijun, already sitting prettily on the couch, flutters his lashes. “Nothing!”

Kazuya arches a brow and scans his living room suspiciously, probably trying to spot any minuscule changes around him. Eijun merely gives him a tight smile, eyes wandering to the walls, to the floor, to any directions but Kazuya.

And it certainly has nothing to do with Kazuya’s currently bare body and his state of clothing. If Eijun didn’t know any better, he’d accuse Kazuya for purposefully teasing him, but the older man seems ignorant of how his sweatpants hangs too low around his hips, showing off his V-line and a faint trail of hair—

Eijun buries his face into his hands.

Oh, God, no. Out of all places, out of all people, he just has to get turned on because of Miyuki Kazuya, in his freaking apartment. Clearly, this is nothing but a bad news. No matter how much Eijun tries to push these new sinful thoughts, he can’t, for the love of God, stop imagining Kazuya in a non-sexual way.

And he’s going to blame the fucking fleshlight for that.

No, wait, not the fleshlight.

He swallows down a whimper at the thought of Kazuya burying himself into the sex toy, eyes rolling up and throat erupting a low moan. He could’ve done it anywhere in his apartment—he could’ve done it right where Eijun is currently sitting. He could’ve even pleasured himself in his bedroom where he and Eijun are only separated by a thin wall.

Just how big is Kazuya, actually? How often does he put that fleshlight into use? What kind of face would he make? How would he act in bed?

Would he tease Eijun, deliberately prolonging his orgasm to make the younger man beg with tears in his eyes?

Or would he fuck Eijun in an unforgiving pace, not even slowing down when Eijun cries out his pleas?

Eijun bites down his inner cheek upon realizing that he’s half-hard. This is really bad. This is probably due to the fact that he’s never really experienced a rough, intense sex with anyone. And not all of them were satisfying—some came too fast, some didn’t bother to help him reach his own release.

Thankfully, sex with Narumiya-senpai is definitely better than his past one-night stands, but even so, he has never once fantasized about Narumiya.

Now that he thinks about it, something has always been lacking—either with Narumiya, or anyone else.

But what is it?

Does he lack experience with someone who truly understands what he wants in bed?

Then, why Miyuki Kazuya? How can that nerdy, cocky tanuki effortlessly play with Eijun’s body without even touching him?

“—amura, oi, Bakamura!”

“E-eh?” Eijun presses his thigh together to hide his erection, looking up nervously at a worried yet peeved Kazuya. “What is it, senpai?”

“You’ve been... acting really weird since you came here,” the catcher sighs. “Are you sure you’re not sick – ?”

“I AM AS HEALTHY AS AN EEL!”

“What does an eel have to do with that,” Kazuya deadpans, before pressing his palm against Eijun’s bangs covered forehead. “Well, you don’t feel sick to me..” he murmurs, “you look really red, though.”

And whose fault is that?! The pitcher grinds his teeth, inhaling deeply as he almost forgets to breathe at Kazuya’s proximity. And apparently, inhaling is not his wisest choice, because his mind goes blank at the scent of Kazuya’s coconut shampoo and soap.

Somewhere between his foggy mind, he manages to realize that Kazuya has basically given him an opening to escape, albeit indirectly.

Eijun then feigns a series of coughs and pushes Kazuya away from him, to which the older man stares at him in genuine puzzlement. Eijun leaps off the couch and snatches his guitar—which somehow ends up on the floor—before jogging towards the exit.

“Ahaha! I guess I don’t feel well!” He cackles in a forced manner, not even looking back at his hot, asshole of a neighbor. “Regrettably, our guitar practice session must be postponed! So, see you around, Miyuki Kazuya!”

“Wait, Sawamura – “

The rest of Kazuya’s words are muted when Eijun closes the door behind him.

Eijun

Narumiya-senpai!!!

Are u free now? (╥﹏╥)

(delivered at 11.23 am)

Eijun chews on his lower lip to prevent breathy moans spilling from his mouth. His left hand shakily holds his phone to wait for Narumiya’s response, as his right hand palms the growing bulge inside his jeans. He’s currently seated on the campus’ toilet bowl, choosing the farthest toilet stall on the corner.

He can’t believe he’s doing this at the campus right after his class, but once again, he blames it on a certain bespectacled catcher who’s been living inside his mind like a plague.

He went to bed feeling horny last night, for he refused to jack off to his neighbor and ended up taking a cold shower. Boy, was it a wrong choice. Kazuya, instead, appeared in his wet dream, whispering dirty promises beside his ear as he finger-fucked the life out of Eijun. The dream version of himself looked so debauched; he was moaning shamelessly as though he was made as Kazuya’s fuck toy. He even showed little resistance when Kazuya inserted a third finger, back arching and nails digging into Kazuya’s back. It all felt so real that he wouldn’t mind if he didn’t wake up at all.

And god, he was so fucking close when he felt a pleasant burn swirled inside his gut, but all he got next was the annoying sound of his alarm.

So, eventually giving in to his frustrations, Eijun practically ran to the toilet the second his lecturer disappeared out of the class.

A notification then pops out on his screen.

Narumiya-senpai

Huh? Did you really ask ‘now’ instead of ‘this week’?

That’s unusual, are you feeling horny right now? (￢‿￢ ) 

(delivered at 11.24 am)

Eijun pauses, before properly rereads his message. Oh, shit. He’s unconsciously typed ‘now’ and now he sounds like a complete horndog.

Eijun

NO!!!!

I just

(delivered at 11.24 am)

Narumiya-senpai

Ok, where are u?

(delivered at 11.25 am)

Eijun

Why does it matter?!&/!/

(delivered at 11.25 am)

Narumiya-senpai

Just answer it brat

fucking hell

(delivered at 11.25 am)

Eijun

...

Um, at the toilet

Comm building

Third floor

(delivered at 11.26 am)

Narumiya-senpai

Good, stay there.

(delivered at 11.26 am)

Eijun’s pupil dilates. Surely, Narumiya’s not doing what Eijun thinks he’s going to do, right? Why would he even go all the way from the his department’s building to approach Eijun?! And it’s basically lunch time! Shouldn’t he be eating—?

He flinches when he hears several impatient knocks against the door of his toilet stall.

“Sawamura, open up. I know you’re there.”

Eijun scrambles to unlock the door and regards Narumiya’s classy appearance in shock. “Y-you’re really here—?!”

“Sssshh,” Narumiya hisses as he steps inside and locks the door quickly. He then turns his rapt attention towards the brunette, intense ocean eyes radiating a domineering aura. “You called me here, so you’re going to follow what I want now.”

“What!” Eijun scowls. “I didn’t even force you to come!”

“You didn’t,” Narumiya agrees, hanging his bag on the wall, before wetting his lips hungrily. “You still gotta obey me, though.”

“Spoiled senpai,” Eijun grumbles, allowing Narumiya to push him until the back of his legs hit the toilet. He plants his ass on the toilet bowl once more, dropping his jaw upon realizing that Narumiya is kneeling before him.

“Don’t get too loud or I’ll bite your dick,” he threatens, yanking down Eijun’s tight jeans and underwear to his knees. He peppers wet kisses alongside Eijun’s thigh, purposely avoiding Eijun’s hard, weeping cock.

Inwardly deciding that it’s not enough, Narumiya pulls the entire clothing off Eijun’s legs, leaving the younger man only in his shirt and shoes.

Narumiya breathes out. “This is hotter than I thought,” he whispers, spreading Eijun’s leg further.

“Ah, n-no—“ the brunette tries to balance his seating by gripping the edge of the toilet.

“It’s okay, y’know,” Narumiya mumbles, lips brushing against Eijun’s hole. “To pull my hair,” he continues while peering up at the brunette. “It’s your kind of thing, isn’t it?”

Eijun bites on his lip harshly when something wet teasingly encircles his hole, before it travels up to his perineum and greets his balls. Narumiya hums, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks on one of Eijun’s balls. His sneaks his other hand to pump Eijun’s member, smearing his precum along his shaft.

“Mmmnh—!” Eijun shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut, unthinkingly tugging Narumiya’s blonde strands, since he’s gotten his permission.

Oh, fuck, it feels so damn good. If only it’s Kazuya’s hand—

“I usually prepare some sachets of lube in my pockets,” Narumiya speaks lowly, thumb grazing at Eijun’s still tight, puckered hole. “But not today,” he sighs in disappointment. “I’ll suck you dry instead, how does that sound?”

“I—I don’t care, just please – “ Eijun moans lowly, wriggling his hips.

Narumiya firmly grasps the base of Eijun’s cock, slowly kissing his way to the sensitive, flushed head. Eijun jerks his hips the moment Narumiya engulfs his dick into his wet heat, sly tongue flicking the underside of his length occasionally.

“O-Oh, god, senpai,” Eijun breathes through his nose, relishing in the wet sucking sounds that Narumiya produces from his mouth. The toilet is eerily silent, and Eijun can’t help but to get more excited at the prospect of being heard by anyone who walks in.

A ringtone abruptly blares from Eijun’s phone which has been placed atop of the toilet’s tank earlier.

Narumiya releases his cock with a filthy slurp. “Answer it,” he challenges with a smirk.

Hazy mind overpowering his logics, Eijun complies, and presses the answer button without checking on the caller’s ID.

“Hello..?” He slurs.

“Sawamura?” a familiar smooth, velvety voice answers from the other line. Eijun’s cock twitches at the sound as he feels his face warming up.

Of course it has to be Miyuki Kazuya.

“W-What – “ Eijun blinks, gulping down as his desire inflates higher than before. Getting a blowjob while his neighbor is calling him is certainly not in his mental plans when he woke up this morning. “Why are you calling?” he then inquires hurriedly.

“Kuramochi’s wondering if you want to join us for lunch,” Kazuya replies without a beat. There’s a protest from Kuramochi in the background, but with Eijun’s state now, he can’t make out a single word.

The brunette swallows with a bated breath when Narumiya proceeds to gorge his whole length, the tip hitting the back of the blonde’s throat. Eijun curls his toes inside his shoes, because—fuck—he’s in so deep, and he’s so tempted to release a noise if not for Kazuya waiting for his response from the other side.

This is clearly a red flag.

“Sawamura?” Kazuya asks, to which the pitcher realizes he hasn’t uttered an answer. If anything, his libido is soaring up to the sky thanks to Kazuya’s gentle, concerned voice near his ear.

‘Does it feel good, Sawamura?’ the Kazuya inside his head asks with the same amount of affection in his tone. ‘You like it when I do this to you, hm? Naughty boy.’

The feeling of Narumiya’s lips around his cock as he bobs his head up and down draws him back to the reality.

This is so fucked up. He didn’t just fantasize about his neighbor while being sucked by his senpai, did he?

“I-I’m—“ Eijun tries to speak, although his voice comes out a bit breathless. He wants to cum, he wants to answer Kazuya first, he wants –

“You’re what?” Kazuya inquires again. “Anwyay, you sound... busy. Should I call you later?”

“Yes!” Eijun says, unsure if it’s a response to Kazuya’s question or to the flick of Narumiya’s tongue against his slit.

“Okay.” Kazuya replies curtly, before hanging up.

In a normal situation, Eijun would’ve probably noticed the odd change of tone in Kazuya’s voice, but he’s too engrossed with Narumiya’s ministrations to his cock. It doesn’t take a long time for Eijun to come after that—white splattering to his thighs, abdomen, and even to Narumiya’s face, much to the blonde’s displease.

“You owe me one full round later,” Narumiya mumbles, wiping his face with the toilet paper nearby. Eijun snickers as he, too, cleans himself and puts on his boxers and jeans.

“Thanks, senpai,” he genuinely says, “although you didn’t really have to come.”

“A bit too late for that,” Narumiya snorts, but he seems a bit abashed, which is a quite rare sight.

“Do you want me to buy you lunch?” Eijun offers despite knowing Narumiya’s loaded wallet. There had been times in the past where Narumiya had insisted to pay for their food—surely, in his own bratty way—and Eijun had promised himself to repay him in some way.

“Nah, I’ll pass,” Narumiya rises up from his kneeling position and dusts his pants. “Your dick makes me feel full.”

Choking on his own spit, Eijun goes cat-eyed and seethes. “Y-YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THINGS LIKE THAT!”

Narumiya grins. “What? That boosted your pride? Don’t misunderstand me here—it’s not like your dick is monstrous.”

Eijun gasps scandalously and points at the blonde. “Your dick is barely even bigger than me, Narumiya Mei!”

Narumiya snarls, an angry vein prominent on his forehead. “Who taught you to talk back to your senpai, brat?!”

“ARGH—shut up!”

“You shut up!”

“Is he coming?” Kuramochi questions curiously, eyes observing Kazuya’s weird behavior after smashing the screen of his phone to disconnect the phone call.

“No,” the catcher sighs, setting down his phone onto the table. “He’s busy.”

“Hyahaha! Sawamura? Busy? With what?” Kuramochi laughs.

“Not with what, but with who,” Kazuya corrects, picking up the menu book of the restaurant with a disgruntled expression. Kuramochi stops his laugh mid-way.

“What the fuck?” He frowns. “Oi, what kinda ‘busy’ did you mean?”

“The ‘fooling around’ kind of busy.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They grow silent for several seconds as Kazuya mindlessly flips the menu book without actually reading it. The low chattering of other customers fill the air, accompanied with a distinct pop music from the speakers somewhere on the wall.

Kuramochi sighs. “Look, I’m sorry that you heard him doing those things while on the phone. Why did he even pick it up in the first place?”

“Who knows,” Kazuya shrugs, trying to dismantle any thoughts about Eijun’s breathless gasps and suppressed moans. Did Eijun even know that Kazuya was able to hear the suggestive wet sounds from his side? Did he do that on purpose? “Probably a kink of his,” Kazuya continues, laughing humorlessly.

“Ew, dude, I don’t need to know that,” Kuramochi grumbles. “Anyway, ready to order?”

“Yeah,” Kazuya says, although he’s already lost his appetite after his call with Eijun. All that’s left is a nasty, unpleasant sensation churning and twisting his insides.

And nobody needs to know that.