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He hadn’t considered missing the company of his loud, bright-eyed, and affable pitcher until said pitcher barged into his room.  He cut through his conversation with wild affection and concern and left like a storm trailed by a rainbow and booming laughter.

And Miyuki, who understood distance and equality, was desperately eager to give chase.

When Okumura spoke again, he did his best to remain unflappable.  Fundamentally, Miyuki should have praised Okumura for steadfastly repairing and bolstering his relationship with a first-string pitcher, his battery partner.  But, he was undoubtedly bothered by his demand to know more about him.

“Good job today,” he said decisively, prematurely ending his conversation with Okumura.  He got out of his seat.

“Are you going somewhere?” he wondered.

He nodded, smiling as he pulled on a sweatshirt.  “I’ll be back soon, no worries!”

Okumura stared at Miyuki as though he wanted to make it very clear that he was absolutely not worried about Miyuki.

He laughed nervously.  “Well, then…!”

If he saw anyone as he slipped out of his dorm room, he’d rationalize his slightly brisker saunter with an urgency to use the bathroom.  No, it was not because he was concerned that Sawamura had already returned to his dorm room.  Respecting boundaries and all—established by no one else but him—Miyuki wouldn’t be able to do anything beyond that door marked with the number 5 .  Never mind the possibility of roommates, his bravery was running out and another dorm room would immediately kill it for him.

He had a mission and limited time, much less time than he wanted to believe.  In the dimness between shadowy buildings and wall lights, he spotted a familiar figure.  Soon, he turned around to face him, prompted by the shoes Miyuki put on haphazardly that kicked up the dirt on the path.

Though Sawamura seemed surprised, he immediately put on an easy and genuine smile.  “Oh, cap!  Taking a walk?”

He shrugged, immediately out of his depths since he didn’t have a lie equipped and ready.  “I thought I might grab a drink.”  He pointed to the vending machine.

Sawamura followed, watching as he pressed a button for black coffee.  “Aren’t you tired from playing?”

Miyuki squatted down to grab the can.   “Not too much.  You didn’t overwork yourself today with your impressive performance, did you?”

Sawamura crossed his arms.  “That’s pretty rude, Miyuki Kazuya!  I’m more trustworthy than that!”

He just hummed.

“I don’t appreciate your response!” he shared.  “And to think I’m spending precious time accompanying you while you drink your coffee!”

At that, Miyuki took a smaller—though drawn-out—sip of his coffee.  “So?  How was it?”

“How was what?”

“Starting with Okumura?”  Miyuki expected an easy, excitable answer, especially given the collective pride he spoke with earlier.  He didn’t expect a pensive hum.

“It’s a little complicated,” he admitted, sitting down.

He raised his eyebrow.  “Is that so?”

He grumbled, “Okay, I admit I did get a little too excited there!  But that’s just because Boss said he was counting on me!  Besides, I was pitching with people I don’t usually get to play with!  And then there was Ono-senpai!”  He groaned loudly, hanging his head.

Miyuki nudged his foot with his own, asking, slightly amused, “Are you going to cry about Ono?”

“Don’t make fun!” Sawamura chided.  “I was really looking forward to pitching to Ono-senpai in a real game!  And I know he was too!”  He grumbled again, muttering, “I’m not going to talk about this with you!”

For that, Miyuki was grateful.  It’s true that he started this conversation and opened it with a discussion of the game.  After all, it was the most natural way.  But, as it progressed, he wasn’t actually interested in hearing the players who may have or may not have caught his pitches and the defense that watched as he tore their opposition a new one.  Miyuki didn’t regret the few days playing for the All-Stars at Inashiro but he did wish he could have been there to witness it all.  Enough for him to suppress a feeling.

Sawamura nudged him back; this time, in the shin and slightly more forcefully.  “Hurry and drink your coffee!” he urged.

“Ah!”  Miyuki grinned, letting his can hang by his side.  “Could you be cold in just a T-shirt?  Do you need a hug?”

Sawamura wrinkled his nose.  “Do you always have to be such a jerk?  Three days you were gone and you start back up like it’s nothing! ”

He took a half step closer.  “Did you miss me?” he teased.  He immediately regretted asking it.  It was a dumb question: he probably wouldn’t have been satisfied with any answer other than yes.

“Did you hit your head?” Sawamura asked instead.  “Did you get hurt there?”

“Different catcher,” he said easily.

Sawamura just hummed.  “That’s good,” he added.  “You can’t be hurt again.”

“Because I can’t catch for you?”

He shook his head.

Miyuki blinked.

“Because, with all your free time, you become even more irritating!” he complained.

Miyuki laughed loudly.  “And here I thought you might care for me!”

Sawamura frowned.  “Don’t say that!  You’re too difficult, Miyuki-senpai.  You might be a tanuki who annoys me to no end but I wouldn’t wish you harm.”

Despite the obvious low-hanging fruit, Miyuki felt an odd surge of affection at the notion.  “Do you think you’ve been spending too much time with Kuramochi?” he deflected.

He groaned, complaining, “Just finish your damn coffee!”

“Is that any way to talk to your senpai?”  He barely sipped his coffee.  “You’re free to go back inside.  You said you were going to bed, right?  Go get your rest.”

“It’d be lonely sitting here alone to drink your coffee.”

“What makes you think I’d want your company?” Miyuki wondered with no bite.

Sawamura pondered it.  He looked up and his golden eyes took in the silver sheen of the moon.  “You seem extra lonely.”

“Huh?”  Miyuki froze.

Sawamura shook his head.  “Never mind.  Did you enjoy Tokyo All-Stars?”

“It was good,” he replied vaguely.

“How were the pitchers?”

“Fine.”

Sawamura crossed his arms with a pout.  He murmured something about not wanting to talk.  Then, he shivered.

“Really, are you sure you shouldn’t go back in?  You’re just in a T-shirt.”

He shook his head steadfastly, putting his arms to his side like he wasn’t cold whatsoever.  “Absolutely not!  I said I’d stay, so I’m staying.”

“Then, what about that hug?  Want it?” Miyuki suggested.

“Yeah?” Sawamura bit back.  “Are you sure you don’t want a hug?  Stupid Miyuki-senpai being stupid!” he tried mumbling.

Miyuki laughed, walking closer to where Sawamura sat on the bench.  He put his half-full coffee can on the bench, deciding, “Maybe I do.”

Sawamura stood up quickly, suddenly enough for Miyuki to take a step back at the risk of being headbutted in the chin.  “Really?  Are you saying that honestly, Miyuki Kazuya?”

He raised his eyebrow.  “When have I ever been dishonest?”

Sawamura scowled.  “I can list millions of times!”

Miyuki gestured as if saying go ahead.

He huffed.  “At the very least, I know you were being dishonest in this conversation!  But I— “ he pointed harshly to himself, “—am not so let’s do it!”  Sawamura opened his arms wide with a sharply defiant look on his face.

“We’re in public,” he reminded him, more about the volume than anything else.

“If you can be a jerk in public and private, I can give hugs in public too!” Sawamura argued, flexing his fingers as if to urge him closer.

Miyuki turned away as he cracked up.  What a kouhai he had!  “Since you’re staying out until my coffee is finished—“ he slung his arm over his shoulder, “—then I’ll take you up on the walk.”

“I never offered that!” Sawamura protested, trying to shimmy away as Miyuki walked away from the dorms, paying no mind to the cold coffee on the bench.

He leaned away slightly, though his arm still rested comfortably around Sawamura.  “Are you going back on your words now?”

Sawamura turned cat-eyed, frowning in resignation.  They had already passed the fence and were up the small set of stairs to the road with only minor grumbling on Sawamura’s end before he exclaimed, “Where’s your coffee?  You don’t even have your coffee!”

Miyuki grinned mischievously, tightening his grip for a second to say, “Uh oh!  Guess you have to stay with me indefinitely!”

Sawamura only crossed his arms, staring at the road that kept going and going as it overlooked the dorms and fields.  They stood stopped as he said, “If you want me here, just say so.  It isn’t that hard!”

Miyuki disagreed.  It was one thing to say it’d been 76 hours since he last caught for his one and only southpaw; it was a whole other thing to say that passing by and brushing shoulders in the few minutes when he returned to the dorms each night was completely insufficient.

He tried not to be bothered about the growth everyone claimed to have seen in Sawamura today—and the rest of the week, for that matter.  It was good for the team that everyone got better individually, Miyuki knew that.  But, as selfish as pitchers could be, he knew catchers were, too.  He wanted to be there and witness it.  He would have loved to be the catcher receiving those pitches, but, just the same, he would have settled for being a spectator in the stands.  This time, the field would be closer than the stands of Koshien and he’d see it all up close: Sawamura and his magic on the mound, his perfect pitches, and his taming of wild batters.

Did the feeling that he wasn’t meant to be around for that cross his mind?  Of course.  Miyuki wondered if it took him being away for Sawamura to be a fully realized pitcher to himself and everyone else.  That was a terribly lonely feeling.  If, for this reason, or that, he couldn’t quite handle the thought of Sawamura leaving him behind and Miyuki being an unnecessary ornament to him, then it was just about his pride as a catcher.  It was probably just a matter of battery mates and being a catcher and a snarky senpai to a loudmouthed kouhai.

“You’d better go back now, Miyuki-senpai,” Sawamura suggested.  Somehow, in their one-sided banter, and Miyuki’s reverie and hold on him, he’d manage to lead them back to the fence.  “Tokyo All-Stars probably took more out of you than you’re going to admit.  You’ve got to rest well because, now that you’re back—“ Sawamura shifted in his hold, grinning widely, “—I need my partner to catch for me!”

Inevitably charmed, Miyuki fought it by sighing.  He was still only human so he rested his head against Sawamura’s hair as he pulled him in a little closer.  “Sawamura, won’t you let me rest?  Don’t you pity me for being tired and losing my coffee?”

“You’re the one who abandoned your coffee!”  Even though he fought Miyuki slightly as he tightened his hold, it wasn’t with much force.  Instead, he sighed, shivering once as he muttered, “You’re warm.”

He stood in sweats with his arm around his reliable kouhai.  Sawamura’s hair was soft and, despite the shivers, he felt the heat under the skin of his hand.  There wasn’t anything quite so comfortable.  At this point, what reason was there to let go and return to his dorm room?  Better yet, if he didn’t return, would time freeze and leave them both in warmth?

“Miyuki-senpai,” Sawamura said.

“Yes, Sawamura,” he replied autonomously.

He turned his head, leaving their faces very close.  “You’ve got to let me go.”

“Do I?” he ended up asking.

“Kuramochi-senpai is going to kick me.”

“I can’t have my partner bruised,” he admitted, letting go only barely.  Miyuki thought if Sawamura pulled away, that would be the end of it.  He could give him the choice to decide if whatever this was was enough.  But, if he stayed, decided he liked Miyuki’s greed, his innate need to see him as a pitcher—and person—then they’d stay; bruises be damned.

“You haven’t let go,” Sawamura noticed.

“I can walk you back.”

“I can walk on my own.”

“Okay.”

Neither of them moved.  Sawamura frowned.  “You’re so weird.”

Miyuki only smiled.

“Then walk me back,” he demanded.

His smile broke into a grin.  “Anything for my partner.”

The walk to room 5 was short and quiet.  Much shorter than Miyuki wished but the quiet wasn’t bad.  He was sleepy and it was warm and no amount of people milling around the dorms, out of the cages, and visiting the baths would pull him from that.

In front of the door, Sawamura slipped easily from Miyuki’s forgiving grasp.  He turned so his back was against the door.  “Have a good night, senpai.”

At the broken contact, Miyuki wished he’d left his sweatshirt in his room.  Maybe then, the warmth would remain a little longer.  He nodded back.  “Night.”  He waited for Sawamura to disappear behind the door before he tore away.  The longer he lingered, the less time would pass between now and then.  However, any amount of time was too long.

“You should really take care of yourself, Miyuki Kazuya,” he said firmly.  “For the team’s sake, you should.  And,” he added quietly, “for everything else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know!  Don’t you have hobbies or something?  That!  You enjoy things more when you take care of yourself!  So, do that!”

“Is this a demand?”

“We’re equals,” Sawamura reminded him with a heated frown.  “I’m your friend and your partner.”

Miyuki smiled softly.  “Alright.”

Sawamura shooed him away with his hands, then rested one of them on the door handle behind him.  “Then go to sleep!  I’ll be sure to wake you up early!”

He cringed.  “Please don’t do that!”

He laughed loudly.  “No can do, Miyuki Kazuya!  We’ve got lots of time to make up for!  Until then!”  Sawamura continued his chortles as he deftly slipped into his room, and only stopped when the company beyond the door became violent.

Until then , Miyuki repeated as he made his way back to his own dorm.

For this reason or that, it was empty.  He didn’t know where Kimura or Okumura had gone or when they’d be back.  He only expected them to be there.

His expectation, since his first year, was a room that was always full.  It was with retired third-years, just as much as when he was lonely and disappointed about not being able to play and worried about losing his spot as a pitcher and the pain of physical therapy.  Someone always seemed to be around, occupying his space.  The most recent, consistent, and familiar presence was a bubbling sound that filled his ears and a childish warmth that seeped into him.

Miyuki flopped onto his bed with a hefty sigh.  He was concerned: there’d never be enough time.  It might only ever be okay if that bubbling sound never disappeared, or if golden eyes continued to sparkle in his direction and calloused hands never stopped reaching.  He could only hope these realizations didn’t end badly.