The silence that follows Eijun's departure is tense.
You sigh, moving away from the door to lean against one of the shelves. Across from you, Miyuki doesn't hesitate to meet your gaze, his hands now tucked into the pockets of his joggers.
A clock on the wall ticks quietly in the silence. The ceiling rumbles faintly, the sounds of movement on the level above you.
"We shouldn't have done any of that," you finally say, your voice quiet. "None of it. It was . . . childish and immature and petty."
To your surprise, he sighs and agrees. "You're right."
"It's not just wrong because we dragged Eijun into it," you murmur. "Even if he didn't know . . . it's still wrong. To go behind his back like that and . . ."
"And lie to him."
You wince, pressing a hand to your face. "Yes."
"Well . . ." You watch him take a seat on the carpeted floor, legs stretched out in front of him. After a minute, you copy him, sitting across from each other. You cross your legs, tucking your hands in the pocket of Eijun's hoodie.
Crossing his arms, his eyes go to the shelves. "It's my fault. I was the one that started out."
You swallow. "But I fed into it. It's both our faults. I just . . ." At your falter, his eyes go back to you, but you avert your gaze to your shoes; you're still in leggings and sneakers. "Miyuki, if you think that I'm not aware that your relationship with Eijun was formed before ours and has lasted a very long time, much longer than our own . . . I am."
You lift your eyes, meeting his again. You aren't sure what you expect, but the understanding in his amber brown eyes surprises you.
"I know . . . I know how close you two are," you continue quietly. "And I'm glad that he has you. I really, really am. I like baseball enough but . . . it'll never be on the same level as the two of you. You give him something I can't."
Slowly, he uncrosses his arms, folding his hands in his lap.
"It doesn't matter how long Eijun and I have been friends. Or that we each give him different things. All that matters . . ." he pauses, discomfort briefly tightening corners of his mouth, perhaps at the idea of being vulnerable with you. "All that matters is that we both care about him, yeah?"
"Yes," you utter, knowing in your heart of hearts that it's true. That, more than anything else, holds true. You'd go to the ends of the universe and back for him if he wanted. And you know Miyuki feels the same way. He may not express it like you do, not through words of affirmation, but through acts, through the affection that, when you're not around, he shares with him.
It's quiet for the next couple minutes and you feel some of the tension in the room ease.
Miyuki must feel it, too, because eventually, he speaks.
"Before . . . my trade with the Mariners . . . I hadn't seen Eijun face-to-face in over two years. We both came to the Majors here at the same time but we weren't just on different teams, but in different leagues. We would rarely face each other on the diamond. And during the offseason, initially, I would see him, but we had spent a lot of time together already in Japan, despite being on different teams. Then there was high school." He pauses, taking a deep breath, seeming incredibly uncomfortable with speaking so honestly but deciding to push ahead, anyway.
"It was sort of unspoken that we should take a break. Let each other breathe. Let him figure out. Let . . . me figure it out. He'd say I have nothing to figure out," he says, smiling slightly. A real time, genuine in its making. All it is is a gentle curve of his lips but to you, it feels a little bit like seeing the sun after so many days of darkness. A relief, in that you finally get to see the real thing; not the facade, not the mask he puts on around others, around you.
"The truth is," he continues. "Even I had some things to figure out. Baseball . . . is the same no matter where you go. That is true. But the culture, the people who play it, the people who watch it — that is different. It was a learning curve but we got it eventually."
You can only imagine. Culturally speaking on a whole, the US and Japan are very different. Respectively individualist and collectivistic, you have no doubts those values shape the sport, the interactions on the team, on the diamond.
"Now . . . for the first time since we graduated high school, we are playing together. And I'm not that great with words but . . . being here together with him means more to me than I could ever manage to say."
He may not be great with words but he conveys his message perfectly. You know exactly what he is talking about. If not just from knowing Eijun, too, then the real feeling in his voice, this warm conviction; win or lose, he is happy to be here, catching for him. You know Eijun feels the same.
"So . . . coming here and realizing the two of you were . . . closer than I had originally thought, well, it was . . . surprising. Not that that justifies anything but . . . you know."
Ah.
You do know.
You think, perhaps, this is just a natural side effect of not seeing each other face-to-face. Eijun never failed to emphasize Miyuki's importance in his life. You knew what you were walking into when Miyuki was traded. For him, however, knowing that on the worst of days, Eijun is a terrible texter . . . Miyuki knew of you, knew the two of you were good friends, but it seemed that the true depth of your relationship with Eijun was inadvertently overlooked, purely because of the shortcomings of the medium used. So, it's just like he said. He got here and he was surprised. And his surprise led to some defensiveness, some feelings of insecurity. He may deny that but you know because he immediately sought to point out the things that would supposedly make his relationship with Eijun superior to yours.
And you, feeling off-kilter at the sudden question that maybe this was a competition, only responded in kind, feeding the cycle.
"We are complete idiots," you state.
"Oh, definitely."
The two of you look at each other for another minute and you can't help it.
You start laughing.
Then Miyuki starts laughing.
It becomes one of those endless loops, where looking at each other makes the both of you laugh harder.
By the end of it, your back aches and you're wiping away the tears from your eyes, desperately trying to catch your breath. Miyuki is in a similar state, slumped against one of the boxes, pushing his glasses up to his head to clear away the tears in his eyes.
"See?" you say breathlessly. "We are more than capable of getting along."
He snickers again. "I don't disagree with you. Some of the stuff you pulled was, I hate to say it, impressive. Like that trick with my coffee the other day."
You giggle. "I'm glad you think so, too."
"Seriously. I mean, you didn't even know if I'd notice it was decaf."
You shrugged, smiling. "Yeah, but I'd know. That was satisfying enough for me. And you ended up noticing anyway, so, win-win."
"I couldn't really tell," he confesses. "But I just had a feeling. I knew it couldn't be that simple."
"Why not?"
"Because if it was me, it wouldn't be."
Coming from him, that's some serious praise. You don't say that, though, lest he thinks you care about his praise . . .
(You do.)
"Fair enough," you chuckle. "If only you showed that much perception when you walked in on me and Eijun that one morning and thought we were together."
"Hey! After your little comment the day before about your relationship with him?"
"Oh, stop, you knew exactly what I was saying. I think you were just desperate to get me out of the running by thinking we were together . . ."
He chortles. "Maybe! I won't lie, it certainly would've been a lot easier for me to handle."
You laugh softly, too. "No, it's not like that . . . it's never been like that. I mean, it's just —" you gesticulate aimlessly; always hard to find the words to convey how much he means to you, that you think all you'd ever need in life is a little place to call your own with him there with you. "You know?"
He exhales a laugh. "I know."
It's the same, for the both of you.
This is the thing that connects you.
The final tension between the two of you eases out, leaving the ensuing silence not totally comfortable but not stifling, either.
You uncross your legs, your left knee aching a little. Stretching them out, you have to angle your legs, since the room isn't big enough for both of you to be sitting stretched out like that directly in front of each other.
Knowing he bared a part of himself to you, even if it was only to give the background on why he did what he did, you feel . . . obligated to return the favor.
And in order to really bridge the gap, so that it isn't only Eijun connecting you two (because you do want to get along with him, you don't want to just tolerate him), a little bit of vulnerability is necessary.
"Did Eijun tell you why I moved here?"
He shakes his head.
You lace your fingers together in your lap, your eyes straying to a box near his head with PRESEASON MERCH written on the side facing you.
"I moved here two months after I graduated high school."
"Why the hurry?"
"Had to get out," you answer, smiling wryly. "Living in such a tiny town, everyone knows everyone and it can be suffocating. I mean, it could be nice, because community, right? But —" not for you, it could never be for you; you can't say that, though "— it was just too much. The bigger part of it is that I wanted to open my own bookshop."
His eyebrows raise slightly, a look of intrigue forming on his face.
"Didn't take you for a reader."
"I work at a library."
"That doesn't mean you read a lot, does it?"
Okay, so, it's true. You are often too busy to sit down and read but you try. You've been on one book for the last four months but you're almost at the end . . .
"Okay," you relent, smiling a little, "so I don't have the time to read as much as I want but I did a lot when I was younger. There was a bookshop in my town that I would always go to. It was like a safe space for me. I want to have something like that here. I mean books, of course, I love them, but . . . if even just one person can have a little peace at my bookshop, then I'd be happy."
You pause and belatedly realize you might've said too much, your face heating up.
Clearing your throat and averting your eyes to the acrylic carpet beneath you, you continue. "Anyway, obviously I haven't gotten there yet. I'm still saving up . . . at the rate I'm going, I probably won't be able to get anything until I'm, like, thirty-five, which sounds really depressing, but as Eijun would say — there's no need to rush. I have all the time in the world."
Which is always easier to believe in theory than in practice but you don't say that.
"So, you didn't go to university after you graduated?"
"College isn't good for me," you chuckle. "I'm interested in way too many things. There's too much I'd like to learn. College is an expensive investment and I'd be expected to pick one thing — something lucrative — and then dedicate the rest of my life to it. I mean, I know some people change their minds, of course, but . . . you know what I mean? And even if that wasn't expected of me, I can't afford to be there as long as I'd want to, bouncing around all kinds of majors. It'd feel in bad taste, too, since some people have to sacrifice so much just for one shot at it."
"So, if you make the money —"
You snort. "Maybe I'd go in and get a couple degrees. Maybe. In some field that probably isn't lucrative but it'd sure be a lot of fun. But that's if I got really lucky with the bookshop. And right now, I'm not even in the position to have the bookshop to make that money." You grimace. "I know it all sounds a little sad but it's not. I'm fine with the pace I'm going at. For the most part."
He shrugs. "I get it. You know what you want and what you have to do." He pauses, a curious look flickering over his face. "Is it true that you used to play baseball?"
This, you assume, comes from your openness. And though the question pulls at some painful memories, you do your best to remain relaxed, not wanting him to pick up on your discomfort and close out the conversation.
"Yep."
"What position?"
"Shortstop. Part of why me and Tony always get along so well. When he found out, he asked me for tips." You roll your eyes, shaking your head fondly. "But I haven't played in a long time. Since I was . . . god, since I was fourteen? Yeah, fourteen."
Not since the surgery on your knee.
"Pretty late, isn't it? Don't they like to kick you girls out earlier?"
You snicker. "Yeah. Back then, I think it was twelve. But our town was so small . . . not many kids interested in such a slow sport."
He opens his mouth to no doubt protest but you hold up a finger, smiling patiently as you add, "Slow to the young ones. They wanted something fast. Like soccer or football."
Miyuki grumbles a little but doesn't disagree.
"And I was good enough for the coach. So, they made an exception. I joined up when I was thirteen but I'd been playing with my brother and sister since we were kids."
"So, if you could hold down a spot, why'd you quit?"
If that isn't the million dollar question.
But you have an answer, prepped from when Eijun had quizzed you on this last year.
"The coach liked me enough but the other boys didn't," you respond, lifting a shoulder. "You get tired of it eventually."
Not a lie but not the full truth, either.
He nods, understanding what you aren't saying. "No softball, then?"
You huff a laugh. "I wanted to play baseball, not softball. I mean no hate to softball players, they're badass at what they do, but . . . to me, it could never be the same. I'd never even played the sport. It was just a socially acceptable thing for me to do."
"I've never understood that. How women have to switch out to softball like that. In Japan, we have both — softball and baseball teams for women. No forcing anyone out. Though I guess there is something to be said about wanting no distinction between sexes . . ."
"With how the sports are set up, I wouldn't be surprised if Japan did it before anyone else," you say. "The baseball bros take the separation very seriously here. You hear about that girl at Brown University?"
"First woman to make an NCAA D1 baseball roster. It's impressive. Isn't she a freshman, too?"
You nod, smiling faintly. "It's cool. Really cool. But the comments on the post the MLB made on Instagram? Horrible. They get one whiff of an insinuation that women might one day have a place in baseball and start foaming at the mouth."
He snorts at your phrasing.
You shake your head. "Anyway. There was that and then —" you set a hand on your left knee, tracing your fingers over it; small scarred bumps on the top and bottom left side of your knee, then another on the bottom right, topped off the longest one, roughly one inch vertical, at the bottom of your knee in the center "— I fucked up my knee towards the end of the season. Completely tore my ACL. No more base-running for me."
Your ACL was surgically reconstructed with a graft, using the central portion of your patellar tendon that runs down the top of your knee as the tissue graft; this is the one-inch scar, the biggest of them, and the other ones are from when they had to drill holes in your femur and tibia in order to run the graft through them and ensure they were reconnected.
Ochre eyes linger on your knee, dark brows delicately furrowed.
Finally, his eyes flicker to yours, an uncharacteristically solemn expression on his face, so it surprises you when he says, "That sucks."
You laugh.
"It does! But," you shrug, smiling faintly, "baseball is still in my life in a way that matters."
Through your job.
Through Eijun.
"That's dedication," he says, grudging admiration easy to pick out in his voice. "I don't think I could ever step foot in a stadium again if I got injured and had to leave. But I guess you had time to get over it."
"Yeah. I thought the same," you admit. "I really had no plans ever getting involved in the sport ever again. I would have no reason to. But I met Eijun and . . . honestly, even then, I thought it didn't really count."
Not just that, but to be totally honest, when you had first learned that he was a pitcher, it had made you nervous. The idea that a pitcher is one of the most egocentric players is not entirely far off; it has precedence. But Eijun is not like that. He is selfish when it comes to the mound, yes, and you don't think it's a bad thing but he's found a balance. He isn't the type of pitcher to hit the next batter if the previous one homers off one of his pitches. It's just not feasible to him.
You shake your head briefly, brushing off those thoughts.
"Why'd you take the job, then?"
You grin sheepishly. "He made it fun again."
He snickers. "You, too, huh?"
You rub a hand down your face, still smiling. "That and I just didn't want to be away too long. I mean, I knew once the season started, he would busy and he sucks at texting back . . . so I figured, why not?"
He snorts, pushing his glasses to his head to rub at his eyes with his thumb and middle finger. "Oh, he is horrible at texting back, isn't he?"
You laugh. "Really bad."
Blinking a couple times, he fixes his glasses over his face again. "So. Where does that leave us? Tolerating each other's presence or —?"
A good question.
But . . . you have to be honest. Finally having a real, honest conversation with him — it's fun. Fun in a way that is a little reminiscent of the first days of your relationship with Eijun.
Eijun is all earnest words and easy conversation. Miyuki is a little tougher, you'll admit that, but it's not bad. You never know what he's going to say. It's . . . exciting.
You aren't going to say all of that, though.
But you do have to put forward something. No matter how embarrassing it is . . .
"I'll say it this one time and never again," you start, your face already feeling warm, "but you're . . . a little cool, I guess."
"A little cool? You're making a very convincing case —"
"Oh, shut up, you know what I mean," you mutter, your face now very hot.
He chortles, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, yeah, alright . . . I guess you're not the worst, either . . ."
You grin. "Now that's high praise."
"And you'll never mention it outside of this room," he threatens, the full effect negated by how his lips twitch to form a grin.
"Friends, then."
He grimaces slightly.
You laugh. "Okay, friends, but —" you hold up a finger "— in the time frame of erosion. Takes millions of years but we'll get there eventually."
"So, in terms of the rock cycle, since that's suddenly an acceptable frame of comparison to use for human relationships —"
"Do you have a better one?"
He holds up his hands at that, continuing. "Where are we?"
You drum your fingers on your thighs. "Metamorphic stage, obviously —"
"Obviously."
"Because now we're going to start the process of erosion before getting to sediment."
"What exactly happens after that part?"
"Cycle starts over," you inform him brightly. "So, we're going to be friends for the rest of our lives!"
He groans.
"Hey, how much time do we have left?"
He checks his phone. "Twenty minutes."
"So, we should talk about what we're going to do about Eijun."
"Grovel?"
"Well, that, but . . . his birthday is coming up."
He checks the date on his phone, eyebrows raising in surprise. "So it is. But we're gonna be gone on the day of."
You nod, lips pursing at that. You're disappointed you won't get to spend the actual day with him; last year, you were able to, since they were here but now, on the fifteenth of May, they'll be in New York, playing the final game of their series against the Mets. Then after that, they're headed to Boston for a series against the Red Sox.
"I want to do something before then," you say. "And if we plan something out, I think it'll make it even better for him."
"What did you want to do?"
You sigh. "There's one restaurant he's been wanting to go to for the past six months but it's impossible to get in. I think the waitlist is, like, three months out."
"What kind of restaurant is it?" he asks warily.
"Japanese. But it's supposed to be very authentic. Like I think he mentioned it started out in Japan then expanded here to a few locations in the bigger cities and this one only opened a year ago. But like I said, I don't think it's possible since his birthday is next week. So, Plan B is Oliver's."
Miyuki picks up his phone. "What's the restaurant called?"
"Kuroda."
He taps a couple things on his phone, a scrutinizing look in his eyes as he looks at something. Presumably the website.
"Not as expensive as I thought it would be," he remarks.
You blink. You have always thought it was expensive — dishes started at $85, which is very expensive in your own humble opinion, especially when compared to Chili's, where the entree you typically order is $16 . . .
Your doubt must show on his face because he chuckles.
"I thought you were talking about a restaurant that charges $500 a head."
"What kind of restaurants are you going to?"
He snickers. "Anyway, I think we can get in."
"How?" you ask, marginally suspicious.
"With me, of course."
"Meaning . . ."
"Look. Right here." He turns his phone towards you, where a page on the owner of the restaurant sits. "Says the owner is a lifelong fan of the Yomiuri Giants."
"I still don't get it."
Pulling his phone back, he rolls his eyes melodramatically, saying your name in an exasperated tone. "Come on. I played for the Giants for four years before I came here."
It finally clicks.
"Oh, my god, you want to use your professional baseball player status to get into the restaurant."
He winks. "Bingo."
"That's — you're insane. You really think that's going to work?"
"Players do it a lot more than you think. I don't because I have no reason to but I guess I can make an exception for Eijun . . ."
You laugh disbelievingly. "How? Call and ask to talk to the owner?"
"No," he says thoughtfully, tucking his phone back in his pocket. "I'd need to go in person."
"I don't understand how that's going to work. Are you hoping the owner is out there and will see you? Or that one of the wait staff recognizes you?"
"Who knows?" he asks brightly. "Whatever happens, happens. If it doesn't work out, at least we can say we tried."
Well, you can't argue with that.
"So, are you getting him anything gift-wise?" he asks.
"A collection of Emily Dickinson's poems. You?"
He grins mischievously. "I'm getting him that Seido hoodie but in the proper size."
"Oh, you jerk."
Miyuki throws his head back and laughs.
The two of you spend the rest of your time talking idly. It's not totally smooth, with the two of you sometimes coming up on slightly awkward lapses of silence, but you figured this would happen, since it's all so new. You and Miyuki could sort of secondhand engage each other in a conversation with Eijun present but when it came to conversations solely between the two of you, where you didn't have a mediator, they were mostly snide comments and insults.
During one of the lapses of silence, you get curious about what the boxes all around the room hold and start opening them.
"Oh, this is ridiculous," you say, after opening the lid on the third box of team-exclusive merch — this one from three years ago. From hoodies to crewnecks to windbreakers. "What good reason do they have to keep all this stuff? I get keeping one or two of each for record purposes but this is just crazy!"
From beside you, Miyuki peers at the contents of the box. He pulls a hoodie face up to get a look at the graphics.
"It's pretty hideous. No wonder they have so much leftover."
You scoff.
"It's wasteful. This stuff could be donated! Or at least sold to the fans if anything else."
"You're not wrong," he says, going over to another box and opening it to reveal bunches of t-shirts and sweatpants, looking over it with a critical eye this time.
You doubt they'd do something if you said anything and it all annoys you so much you have to close the boxes and sit down again, grumbling to yourself. Miyuki cajoles you into better spirits eventually, though.
For the best, probably, so when Eijun returns, it's at a good time, right when Miyuki is recounting some of his shenanigans during high school and you're laughing at the thought of a gangly fifteen-year-old Eijun vying for the coach's attention.
Eijun peeks into the room like he's about to come upon World War Three. You guess you understand. Forty-five minutes ago, you and Miyuki were locked in your very own Cold War, all passive-aggressive pranks and underhanded comments. Now he finds the two of you laughing over his fifteen-year-old self's lack of shame.
Warily, he closes the door behind him. It doesn't seem that finding you two like this makes him feel any better, a wrinkle lingering between his brows. The sight of it makes your guilt swell full-force, your laughter trailing off awkwardly as he looks between the two of you like he expects you both to say Sike! We hate each other and never want to be around one another ever again!
That sobers the moment very quickly.
Solemn now, you and Miyuki push to your feet.
Eijun leans against the door, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, lips pursed, the furrow between his brows getting deeper with each second of silence that drags by.
You break the silence first. "We both screwed up."
Miyuki nods, lips pressed in a line. "I started it. I goaded her into it."
"But I kept it going," you add. "So, it's both our faults."
He bites his lip, chewing at it for a moment. "And the sneaking around?"
"If you're thinking we think you're dumb and easy to fool, that's not it," Miyuki says, his tone, once again, surprisingly gentle.
"It's not," you agree. "We just thought we were doing a better job at hiding it."
"Well, you weren't," he mutters. "How many times can the two of you get each other's orders wrong before anyone notices? And the hoodie? Kazuya, really?"
Miyuki doubles over with laughter at that, holding onto a nearby shelf for support. You can't imagine what's so funny to him but you have an inkling that it might be the exasperated look on Eijun's face and the sour one that has no doubt unfolded on yours at the reminder of the hoodie (that you still don't have).
"What are you two, a pair of middle schoolers?" he complains without any real heat.
"We just love you that much," Miyuki gasps out when his laughter abates.
Eijun goes cat-eyed at that. "Shut up! That's a horrible reason!"
Another wheezing laugh. Miyuki steps closer to him, hands grappling at the material of Eijun's track jacket before tugging forward so he can sling an arm over his shoulder. Eijun, still scowling, lets him. You watch warily, unsure if you should step in.
"I'm kidding," he says when he's mostly calm. "I'm not sure that either of us —" he sends a pointed look your way "— can totally say there wasn't some jealousy involved but . . . mostly, it was," he hesitates, obviously reluctant to show his hand, but Eijun watches sharply enough that he clearly forces himself to continue. "It was pride, I think."
"He's right," you say. "Obviously you — you aren't some kind of object for us to fight over, you're a real human being and it's not like you'd even put us in a position where we'd need to prove ourselves or something. But we were — caught off guard. By each other. And so . . ."
It's a little more complex than that but you don't want to speak for Miyuki, especially when you get the feeling he intends to speak more honestly to Eijun when they're alone.
Finally relaxing, he rolls his eyes. "You two are dumb."
"We are," the two of you chorus unintentionally.
A grin forms on Eijun's lips and he looks at Miyuki, eyebrow raising. "So, did you two come to a decision on what you'd like to be? I can deal with it if you don't want to be around each other —"
"What are you talking about, Sawamoron? Is our newfound camaraderie not obvious?" Miyuki jeers, the hand on Eijun's arm coming up to his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands as he gently ruffles it. "In fact, if you can believe it, we're starting off as friends but only — and I quote — in the time frame of erosion. As in, the rock cycle."
Miyuki clearly says it like Eijun is supposed to find it just as dubious and amusing as he does but all Eijun does is nod seriously and say, "Makes sense."
"You two are the worst."
You grin. "So . . . Miyuki and I were thinking — Denny's for dinner?"
His face brightens. Eijun loves Denny's as much as he loves Oliver's and you wager a guess that if Miyuki does get you a reservation at Kuroda and it lives up to the hype, it will soon join the list.
Some of Eijun's favorite eateries: Oliver's Steakhouse, Kuroda, and . . . America's Favorite Diner: Denny's.
God, you love him.
The rest of the day goes quickly and you find yourself having more fun at a game than you have since the season started. Or maybe since the second day of the season, when you and Miyuki's little game started. Now, you no longer have to look over your shoulder or worry about any surprises. Miyuki seems to feel the same and the three of you finally ease into a real conversation where you aren't just relying on Eijun, but you're able to be genuine in your answers. Unfortunately enough, they lose the game against the Phillies 2-0, but they don't let it get them down.
All of you get dinner at Denny's (with Eijun and Miyuki astounding your poor waiter with their respective hundred dollar tips), then you head back to their apartments.
It's only when you're opening up your duffle bag and digging through it do you find the Yankees hoodie squeezed into a corner. You hadn't noticed when changing out from the uniform into your normal clothes because you'd thought it was the other hoodie; that same hoodie that is currently missing, with the Yankees one taking its place.
Eijun calls your name, appearing by your elbow where you've set your bag on his dresser.
"Give me your clothes so I can wash them — oh, what is that?"
You can't help the grin that spreads over your lips as you wriggle the hoodie out from the corner it's been squeezed into.
You hold the hoodie between the two of you, the material wrinkled and probably a little smelly from being stuffed in there with old clothes, but as Eijun raises an eyebrow, you beam, clutching it to your chest.
"It's the hoodie, Ei. He gave it back to me."
Smiling fondly, he grabs your clothes from the bag, tossing it on top of the pile of his on the bedroom floor.
"We can wash it right now," he promises, bending to pick up the clothes.
You toss it aside to help him, the smile not budging from your lips.
After that, when you two settle into bed, you finally breach the topic of you and Miyuki once again.
"I am sorry, you know."
The both of you lay on your sides facing each other. In the complete darkness of his room, you can barely make out the outline of his face.
"I know. I just don't get it."
"It was dumb."
"Were you . . . were you jealous?"
"A little. You and Miyuki have known each other so long . . ."
"And I feel like I've known you my whole life."
"I know," you whisper, your fingers finding his, lacing together between the two of you. A calloused thumb rubs over your knuckles.
"It's different," he continues quietly. "The time scale doesn't matter to me. But you . . ." His voice wobbles towards the end and the bridge of your nose burns at the sharp onset of tears.
"It doesn't matter to me, either. It was just a moment of insecurity. But I know that's not an excuse. I'm sorry. I don't doubt us. I don't."
He takes a deep breath. You sniffle.
"It's not the perfect match-up. I get different things from Kazuya and I get different things from you. But I love you both equally the same. Do you understand?"
You wiggle your hand loose from his, reaching out hesitantly to find his face in the dark. Your fingers bump against the warm skin of his cheek, feeling the stubble starting to grow there. With your hand against his cheek, you can safely press your forehead to his.
"I understand," you whisper. "I'm sorry again."
He sniffles, sliding an arm around your waist. "It's okay. I forgive you. Next time . . . just talk to me."
"I will," you promise, thought you don't anticipate a next time, since you and Miyuki thoroughly settled the issue on your own.
You move back to plant a kiss on his forehead. His arm tightens around your waist at the action.
"Love you," he mumbles.
"Love you."
━━━━━━ author's note
HI stream hozier's new ep eat the young
it's so good. so good. also! hi Yeah bonus chapter today bc it came out and why not. had a great spring break and i hope you guys have too :D
we're out of the woods! things are looking up. i'm excited for everyone to see it. howver make no mistake this is a Slow Burn. reader and miyuki will end up as friends before they get together. because i love friendships. in case you guys couldn't tell it's deeply important to me
i hope you guys enjoyed! let me know your thoughts and come see me on tumblr at mangoisms! i talk about writing and reblog posts pertinent to miyuki and reader and reader and eijun! also may or may not have something else in the works. big maybe tho so don't hold me to it but i'm optimistic! ok byeeeeeeeee