HEADCANON that eijun made going out of his way to wake miyuki up part of his morning routine because of that first day they both ended up sleeping in and almost missing morning practice together. since that day onwards, eijun took it up on himself to act as a living alarm clock to miyuki for two very simple reasons: 1) while eijun knows the reason for his first day blunder (and how he can’t let it happen ever again), he’s convinced himself that miyuki kazuya on the other hand might need someone’s help. he must be bad at waking up, there’s no other way around it, he needs an upstanding teammate to jumpstart his mornings! 2) revenge. for that first day prank miyuki played on him, like the tanuki he is! eijun swears he’s only looking out for his cap’ and does it for #1, but from his eternally chipper, obnoxious voice and wide smile miyuki wakes up to each day, miyuki’s fairly sure it has to be #2! he’s certain eijun’s karma personified.
“Did you know we’ve been lovers since high school?” Kazuya notes.
“Honestly, Sawamura, you owe me a decade’s worth of anniversary gifts.
You’re a terrible boyfriend.”
Firsts. Miyuki never really thought much about those; he had baseball and baseball had his life and he never really expected the myriads of firsts during his years in Seidou.
It’s his smile, Miyuki thinks, the thing that first got to him, his smile, his golden eyes and fiery enigma; Sawamura Eijun is a heat of blaring energy with wild pitches and wild soul that sucks him in with nowhere there to run.
Firsts. Curiosity woven in sun-hot magnetism, attraction, a pull towards bright, open eyes, and a warm, foreign feeling settling in between his bones, in the cracks of his very being. A confession, spilled between quivering lips, and kisses, charged with electricity, bruising, wanting, exciting. It’s a thrill of midnight secrets, warm, damp breath agains his skin and fingertips down down and past the waistband of his baseball uniform.
They play on the edges of a first love, not falling, nor staying still; wobbly steps of lingering touches and teenage uncertainty, of trembling fingers and precious moments burnt forever in their chests.
The first time they allow themselves to cross yet another line is the day Miyuki finds himself packing clothes and books into boxes, days after his graduation; not planned, just an idea at the back of their minds, sparked and kindled by each of their kisses, turned into a wildfire by the day Miyuki is supposed to leave.
(Fear burns stronger than certainty, Miyuki finds out.)
Sawamura comes as the storm he is—no warnings—and sucks Miyuki in, like a whirlwind of energy, want and desperation. His lips tremble hard as they kiss and the small whines raising from his throat send shivers down Miyuki’s spine; electric shocks, reminders of an inevitable parting.
“Miyuki—I.. I need-,” Sawamura pleads, unsaid words hanging in the space between their lips.
“I know, I know.”
“Please.”
And it all goes downhill from there, Miyuki’s resolve crumbles and melts away and they peel their clothes off on the way to the bed; shaking hands and trembling bodies, Miyuki’s first happens days after his graduation day, unplanned and unexpected, with names spilled from parted lips like prayers.
They’re clumsy and unexperienced, and it takes some time until they figure it out, but they both discover the sweet ache of anticipation and the striking bliss of being so close to someone so dear; Miyuki opens up in Sawamura’s hands as a flower-bloom and gives and gives until he’s spent.
And honestly, it should have been sweet and slow, yet it’s anything but. It’s desperate, and fast, and overflowing with raw emotions and unsaid words and God, isn’t it perfect. There are fingers twisting in Miyuki’s hair, damp, quickened breaths against his mouth, words dying in his throats and his heart can barely take it.
They don’t last long at all and it’s with his fingers between naked thighs and wet, sloppy kisses against the curve of his neck that he comes and Sawamura follows with the sweetest sound of surrender and Miyuki feels his blood white-hot in his veins, flowing from the tip of his ears all the way to his toes.
“Are you okay?” is the first sentence Miyuki musters when he collects himself enough to speak. He props himself on his elbows so their eyes meet.
Sawamura just stares back with big, glassy, golden eyes. His lower lip quiver as he opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again.
Miyuki just strokes the skin under Sawamura’s eyes with his thumb, slow and gentle, saying it’s okay with no words, just mellow whorls over freckled skin.
“W-wait for me?” Sawamura whispers finally, his voice breaking at the end and Miyuki feels the words like a punch in the gut, painfully raw with emotions that flow right though his body as realisation settles at the back of his mind. How big of a deal was this first for them and the emotional impact it might have on Sawamura, on him too, on their relationship.
“It’s just a year,” he tries, his voice coming awkwardly high and cracked, “we’ll make it.”
“What if I—”
Miyuki shushes him then with a light press of his lips on Sawamura’s. He feels so heavy; his body and heart, they weight him down as an unpleasant feeling builds heavily in his stomach. Fear, it’s raw and scary, he thinks, as he cradles Sawamura into a tight hug. You’ll make it, is what he doesn’t say.
His eyes begin to sting unpleasantly, myriad of emotions threatening to well over again. Open and exposed, right here in the arms of the person who cracked his mask and made himself home in the space between his bones, he lays scared and so in love it hurts.
Sawamura mumbles something into Miyuki’s neck, something that sounds like I’m sorry and don’t worry, his hand caressing Miyuki’s back in slow, sweet circles as he works his fears and frustration out, warms palm on sweaty skin, reassuring, present.
“I—,” Miyuki tries, but his voice comes brittle. They lay in silence, hugging, until Miyuki speaks again, “Sawamura.. was this too much?”
Sawamura’s hand on his back stills for a second and Miyuki tries very hard not to fall apart.
“Yes,” he mutters, “and also no. I wanted this. Was is too much for you?” Sawamura asks, voice small.
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