Summary: [Spoilers to Ch. 191] After Seidou's devastating loss to Inashiro High, Haruichi attempts to comfort his brother while struggling with the realization that they'll never go to Nationals together.
Rating: M
Warnings: Spoilers past Ch. 191 of the manga; Kominato-cest; a very melancholy baseball team
Obligatory disclaimer: I own nothing. (Because if I did, SEIDOU WOULDN'T HAVE LOST.)
A/N: After binging on the DnA anime, I absolutely HAD to know how the Seidou vs. Inashiro game ended (at the time I wrote this, crunchyroll only had up to episode 50ish — smack in the middle of the game). So I jumped on the manga, completely certain Seidou was going to win…
…And then they lost! (!) (!)
I couldn't get it out of my head, so I scribbled this up. It's kind of, um, a Kominato-cest indulgence to make myself feel better. I hope you like it.
AU as of the very second they lose.
#
His brother is the first third-year to stop crying. Ryosuke's eyes are red and his cheeks are pale and covered in tear-tracks, but eventually he seems to run out of tears. Haruichi isn't exactly sure when. He's lost all track of time. His own tears just keep leaking out.
Somewhere along the journey home, it's started to drizzle. The world outside looks shadowy and overcast through the small bus windows. Fog seems to creep inside the vehicle, dulling the lights and sucking away whatever's left of their dreams.
The only sounds besides the rain are the raw gasps and sobs of heartbreak.
They've been on the road for what seems like hours, trapped in this bus of misery, and the situation is made all the worse by the look on Ryosuke's face. His perpetual smile has disappeared. In it's place is a frown so endless, it leaves deep, haggard grooves around his mouth and eyes. Haruichi thinks it must've come from the very depths of his soul. He's afraid it might slide right off his face and drag Ryosuke down with it.
Ryosuke'd pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them only a few minutes after they'd boarded. He hasn't moved since, not even to flinch when they hit the bumps in the road. It's a position they both take when they're upset; something they've done all their lives. Or maybe it was Ryosuke's position first, but now it's definitely theirs.
Ryosuke looks so defeated it makes Haruichi's heart split open. He almost whispers his brother's name, but then presses his lips together. Instead, he curls into himself, just like Ryosuke has. It sort of helps. Maybe, in this small way, they can be together.
What Haruichi really wants, more than anything, is to comfort him, and to be comforted… But Ryosuke is tucked away between Kuramochi and a window, completely inaccessible. Haruichi wants to hold his hand, maybe tell him how sorry he is, and have Ryosuke embrace him. I really thought we were going to win.
It's not enough to just want it. That's probably what Ryosuke would say.
But we put our heart and soul into into that game…
Haruichi almost wishes he couldn't see them, yet he can't help but watch them obsessively. Kuramochi, the guard by Ryosuke's side, looks both dejected and fierce. He has an arm thrown carelessly along the back of Ryosuke's chair. Every now and then he looks at Ryosuke, and his face screws up with pain. There is no room for Haruichi there, in their world. But he wishes there were.
Brother, let me help you.
Ryosuke hasn't said a single word to anyone. Not even to Kuramochi. None of the third-years have spoken, really.
In the back of the bus, Kawakami is sobbing, and only the odd pair of Eijun and Miyuki have moved to comfort him. Miyuki sits next to him; Eijun leans over them from the next row back. Eijun's eyes are wet but earnest; Miyuki's are inscrutable.
"You pitched to the best of your ability," Haruichi vaguely hears Miyuki say. He stares imploringly at his brother. Please, Ryosuke. "No-one blames you."
"You did the best you could," says Eijun. Even he manages to be quieter than usual — but still, he's too loud. Like disrupting the stillness of a graveyard, his voice echoes echoes all around them.
You did the best you could… You did the best you could… You did the best you could…
Haruichi bows his head.
Ryosuke must surely know what Haruichi wants, but he doesn't look up.
That hurts almost worse than anything else.
Just look at me.
#
Even knowing Ryosuke's tears have dried, Haruichi is still crying when they finally arrive at the dorms — but then, his brother has always been stronger than he has.
They file off the bus slowly, like each step hurts to take. Haruichi waits in the rain with the rest of his teammates, wet and muddy, until the bus is empty. Then, as though they've planned it, all the first and second years bow to the third years and thank them for their hard work (although they haven't planned it, of course — they'd never talked about what would happen if they actually lost, because it was unthinkable).
All Haruichi can think about, as the rain and the tears slip down his cheeks, is how much he'd wanted to go to Nationals with his brother.
This place isn't as easy as you think, Ryosuke'd said to him. He'd been right.
There is suddenly a lot of hugging. The other second- and first-years promise to avenge them by winning Nationals next year.
"I'll win for you," Haruichi whispers, peering at Ryosuke from under his bangs. His heart burns with determination.
Coach has said everything there is to say already, so he just looks on silently as they lick their wounds together. Finally, he tells them to go to their dorms and walks away.
They'll see the third-years tomorrow; one final good-bye. Haruichi's once-white uniform is splattered with mud. As most of the players leave, dragging their feet through the puddles and splashing him, it gets even dirtier.
Finally, just the members of the first-string remain. Then they too begin to dissipate into the fog: Jun and Masuko and Tetsuya and Tanba. All gone, one by one.
Kuramochi hesitates next to Ryosuke. His eyes flicker to Eijun, who is making his way back to their dorm. He meets Haruichi's eyes, then nods, his mouth grim. He squeezes Ryosuke's shoulder before chasing after him. Despite Eijun's brave words on the bus, his shoulders are slumped, even with Kuramochi by his side.
Then it's just the two of them, as it's always been. Haruichi stands alone, a damp chill running through his bones. The feet between them suddenly seems like a vast distance. He stares at his shoes. They are soaked through.
"Go back to your dorm," says Ryosuke. His voice is muted; the rain carries it away. He turns, as though just to leave Haruichi there.
Haruichi watches him take a few steps, his heart in his throat.
He can't, he won't, let Ryosuke pull away without him this time.
"Brother!" he calls, running after him. He catches Ryosuke by the arm and grips his sleeve. "I'm not leaving you."
Don't ask me to. Please.
There is a long pause. Ryosuke doesn't seem to notice the rain hitting him. Haruichi can barely make out his expression, between the baseball cap riding low over his eyes, and the fog.
Finally, he sighs like he's just released a great weight, and leans into Haruichi's touch.
"Being your older brother is such a pain."
For the first time that Haruichi can ever remember, it is he who supports Ryosuke, and not the other way around.
#
Alone, where no-one can see them, Haruichi keeps his arm wrapped tentatively around Ryosuke's waist as they head out of the rain. Ryosuke is limping badly, and Haruichi hates himself for not noticing the extent of his injuries earlier.
He's concentrating so fully on supporting Ryosuke's weight that he doesn't realize Ryosuke has led them away from the dorms, towards the baths.
"I'm disgusting."
"It's okay," says Haruichi. "So am I."
It's been a long time since they've taken a bath together, just the two of them, not surrounded by their teammates. Haruichi is perhaps overly-relieved that the baths are empty. He doesn't want anyone else to see this side of Ryosuke, wounded and fragile.
They shower quickly before Haruichi draws up the bath, as hot as he can get it. That's how Ryosuke used to do it, at home, and Haruichi hopes Ryosuke still likes it the same way now. Ryosuke sits in the tub as it fills and lets the water ease over him inch by inch. Haruichi pretends not to notice his nakedness.
Ryosuke winces when the water rises above his ankle, and Haruichi winces with him. "Brother," he says, as the water edges and flows over Ryosuke's calves, "Shouldn't we—"
"I'll ice it later." His voice is sharp. He doesn't open his eyes. "Leave it."
"O-okay…"
Haruichi turns off the taps when the tub is decently full and steps into the water with care. Steam pillows around him like a hot, heavy blanket. He sees Ryosuke's shoulders ease once he's settled, so he relaxes as well. He closes his eyes and lets himself fade away, content to finally be out of the rain, his brother by his side.
Ryosuke nudges him out of his dreams sometime later, a toe to Haruichi's side. "Wash my back."
Haruichi obligingly retrieves a washcloth and rubs it over his neck, his shoulders, his back. Ryosuke's body is still Ryosuke's body, and yet it is different. The same moles. More muscle. Different bruises. A few scars that Haruichi doesn't recognize. He pays particular attention to those, wanting to know who, what, why…
He traces his fingertips over Ryosuke's shoulders, right where his hair falls. Ryosuke twitches. He's let his hair grow even longer than it was when they were children. Haruichi wonders if Ryosuke still likes to have his scalp massaged, so he presses his fingers in gently behind Ryosuke's ears.
"Don't," says Ryosuke, edging away abruptly. "That's fine. Let's get out."
Flushing, Haruichi nods. He offers Ryosuke a hand out of the tub, then re-dresses in his muddy uniform.
Ryosuke is depending on him. It won't do to lose himself in a fantasy.
#
The rain shows no sign of letting up. Haruichi retrieves an umbrella and an ice-pack out of a nearby storage room before they go outside again. He's more certain about curling his arm around Ryosuke this time, now that it's allowed — but it's much more difficult to do while also balancing the umbrella. Eventually he gets it mostly right, determined to do the best he can.
They fumble their way to Ryosuke's dorm, walking slowly. Ryosuke's ankle is bright red; he's left his foot exposed, and leans heavily on Haruichi as he hobbles along. The rain is frigid against Haruichi's arms and legs, and their sports bags are heavy on his arm, but at least Ryosuke is dry…
Ryosuke's lips are pale and thin when he re-adjusts his position, wrapping his arm around Haruichi's shoulders, and feels the rain beating against Haruichi's skin.
"Give that to me," he snaps, yanking the umbrella out of Haruichi's hands. He pulls Haruichi in even closer, so that they're tucked together out of the rain. His skin where it touches Haruichi's is still hot and damp from the bath. "Idiot. Don't get wet on my account."
"Sorry," Haruichi whispers.
They're half-way to the dorm when Haruichi nearly trips, slipping in a puddle. Ryosuke catches him, yanks him upright, then pokes his side. "I don't think you can hold me up, Haruichi. You're still too skinny."
Ryosuke sounds— could it be? — almost teasing. Haruichi's heart soars. "I'm taller than you are!" he protests.
"Height has nothing to do with power, as you should know…"
"I won't let you down, brother," says Haruichi. He tightens his hold on Ryosuke, determined to prove it.
"Don't worry," says Ryosuke, as they pause in front of the door and he unlocks it. "I know you'll surpass me soon enough."
The way he says it strikes a dead weight into Haruichi's chest. The lock clicks. Ryosuke nudges the door open with his good foot and slips out of Haruichi's grasp. The lights are totally off, and for a moment Ryosuke disappears into the shadows.
"B-brother—"
The lights flick on, blindingly bright. Ryosuke limps to the bed.
"Give me the ice pack."
"I'll do it."
"You should go."
"I'll do it!"
Ryosuke finally looks at him for the first time all night. His mouth almost twists into a smile, like a grim echo of the one Haruichi is so familiar with. His eyes are dark.
"Still so stubborn, Haruichi."
Haruichi slams the door shut and strides over to the Ryosuke's dresser, tossing their bags on the ground. He's in an unexpected temper. Ryosuke's roommates are absent; Haruichi strongly suspects they know better than to stick around Ryosuke when he's suffered a loss this great.
"Where are your pajamas?"
"…Bottom left drawer."
Haruichi wishes he were familiar enough with Ryosuke's room that he'd already known that. He tosses Ryosuke a pair to change into, then grabs a pair for himself as well. He wonders if Ryosuke will protest that, too, but behind him, all he can hear is the rustle of clothing as Ryosuke strips off his wet uniform. It feels good to put on something dry and clean, and it's even better that the pajamas smell like Ryosuke's citrus cologne.
He realizes with distress that this is probably the last time he'll be in Ryosuke's dorm, unless Ryosuke asks him to help pack tomorrow. Which, most definitely, he won't. Emotion thickens his throat. He closes his eyes and swallows, squeezing his hands together.
Haruichi will never be on a baseball team with his brother again.
Don't cry.
He turns around stiffly, ice-pack in hand, and sits on the edge of the bed. Gently, he lifts Ryosuke's hurt ankle and rests it in his lap, then presses the ice-pack against the left side, where it is most swollen. Ryosuke's entire ankle is bruised, all the way up to his calf, mottled red and purple and green. Haruichi isn't even sure how he walked on it earlier tonight.
"When did you hurt it?" he asks, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Last game," says Ryosuke, strained. Then he adds, "Kuramochi thought it might be too much to play this round."
So Kuramochi'd noticed, and Haruichi hadn't. Haruichi's fingers are cold. An icy chill is working its way through him.
"But you still played."
He admires that about Ryosuke, how he'll always fight. He pushes Haruichi hard, but he pushes himself even harder. Someday, Haruichi'll be his brother's equal… But that day hasn't come yet.
"Maybe I shouldn't have," says Ryosuke, a few moments later. Haruichi jerks his head up and stares at him in shock. "I let the team down. I contributed to our loss."
"Brother!" Haruichi gasps. Unintentionally, he applies extra force to the ice-pack; Ryosuke flinches and snaps his eyes open, glowering. "Sorry — sorry! But that's not true! I could have hit better — and Kawakami could have pitched better — but you—"
You were perfect. You did everything you could.
He can't get the words out, and they stay stuck in his throat, weighing him down. He's ashamed of himself for bringing up Kawakami. Ryosuke's pins him with a sharp glance. It's not Kawakami's fault; Haruichi knows that.
But it isn't Ryosuke's fault, either.
"Stop crying, Haruichi."
He can't. Selfishly, he can't.
"It's not your fault," he says. Maybe if he says it enough, Ryosuke will believe him, and they can go back, and…"You were great, brother."
"We're a team. It's no one person's fault, idiot."
Haruichi's tears are sizzling down his face and landing on his lap. He fumbles with the ice-pack and nearly drops it. He's embarrassing himself…
A sharp tug on his shirt nearly sends him flying forward. Ryosuke is frowning at him. "Come here."
"Watch your ankle—!"
"Just don't bump it. Come here."
"No! I'm supposed to—"
Now Ryosuke's eyes are open fully and narrowed. "Supposed to what?"
"Comfort you," Haruichi whispers. "For once, Ryosuke — please. Let me…"
There is a pause. Haruichi tries to pull away from Ryosuke again, but Ryosuke's grip is unrelenting.
"I'll feel better," says Ryosuke, through gritted teeth, "If you're up here with me, Haruichi."
Haruichi flushes hot through his entire body. He can feel it work up his neck and cheeks. Hope spikes through him.
"Is that…?" True?
Ryosuke jerks his chin into a nod.
He knows Ryosuke won't repeat himself. He scrambles up the bed after carefully adjusting the ice pack so it will lay on top of Ryosuke's ankle, like an icy cocoon. Maybe Ryosuke is only saying it to make him feel better… But even so, it's worth it.
Ryosuke pulls him close. Haruichi's heartbeat roars in his ears as he settles between his brother's legs, pulled up against Ryosuke's chest. Ryosuke is a solid weight behind him, warm and achingly familiar. No matter what Ryosuke says about Haruichi surpassing him, he has surprisingly broad shoulders, and he's stocky in a way that Haruichi will never be. He's the perfect fit for Haruichi.
Ryosuke hasn't held him like this since before he left for Seidou. Haruichi'd thought it would never happen again.
He ducks his face into the space between Ryosuke's neck and shoulder, grateful that his bangs are shielding his eyes.
If Ryosuke isn't crying, than you shouldn't be either.
But he is. Ryosuke brushes Haruichi's bangs out of his face and lets him cry.
I've missed you. I miss you. I'll miss you.
Don't leave me.
#
Ryosuke holds him for the rest of the night. Eventually, they shift onto their sides; not talking, just touching. Sometimes it's just easier to communicate that way. Ryosuke's hair tickles Haruichi's ear, but he does his best not to squirm. He's not sure he can, anyways, because Ryosuke's arms are unrelentingly firm where they're wrapped around him.
Even later than that, Ryosuke's breathing evens out, gusting against the back of Haruichi's neck. His arm remains thrown loosely around Haruichi's waist. The lights are still on, but he's buried his face against the back of Haruichi's shoulder, shielding his face.
Haruichi doesn't even want to breathe, because he doesn't want to disrupt this moment in any way, but he can't stop his heart from pounding. He's afraid that if he moves too suddenly, things might go back to how they were.
He runs over every detail, forcing himself to repeat them: the almost-too-fiery heat of Ryosuke's body curled against him, like a furnace (Ryosuke's always, for as long as Haruichi can remember, blazed hot when he sleeps). Ryosuke's pajamas shirt, just a little too big on Haruichi, gaping around his neck and loose around his biceps. The umbrella perched against the doorway, still a little damp. Their baseball mitts and dirty clothes, tossed carelessly on the ground. Even the scratchy fabric of the pillowcase beneath his cheek.
All of it. It's all important.
Remember everything.
He isn't aware of falling asleep, or even of closing his eyes, but somehow he drifts off, too. He's a little confused when he wakes up, before he even creaks his eyes open. Why does he feel so safe, and so warm? For a moment, he thinks he's lost in a memory, of when they were children and shared the same bed. But the smell and feel of Ryosuke is too real to be a fantasy.
He's always had that problem, of falling asleep too easily when Ryosuke's around. Usually it means Ryosuke teases him or plays jokes on him when he finally wakes up.
"Get up, sleeping beauty," he'll say, smiling dangerously as he whips the covers off and leaves Haruichi shivering in the cold. "Or should I get a bucket of ice water?"
He's not joking, either — Haruichi knows that from personal experience.
He used to be able to tell by the length of the smile on Ryosuke's face when Ryosuke woke him up what kind of morning it was going to be. Would Ryosuke walk him to his classroom, and tell him baseball stories? (Those were Haruichi's favorite mornings.) Or would Ryosuke eat his breakfast and make him late? (Those were his least favorite.) Either way, Ryosuke's face has always told him everything he needs to know.
He wants that routine now, wants to see Ryosuke's face. Ryosuke is definitely awake; Haruichi can tell by his stillness. He turns in Ryosuke's arms and yawns as he looks around, pushing his bangs out of his bleary eyes. It's not quite morning outside, and he's not sure how long he's slept. He registers that it's stopped raining, because the room is peacefully quiet.
What kind of day is going to be, brother?
As he peers at Ryosuke's face, he realizes that he doesn't recognize Ryosuke's look today.
Has too much time passed? Or is it something else?
"…Brother…?"
Ryosuke is staring right at him.
When they were younger — much younger — Haruichi'd thought he and Ryosuke were twins, until he'd seen the color of Ryosuke's eyes. They're duskier than Haruichi's, like the pinks of a sunset right before the moon comes out. Ryosuke'd said "I'm your older brother — that makes me even better than a twin," but Haruichi'd still cried.
Then Ryosuke had started to keep his eyes shut, and Haruichi had done the same.
"So we can be twins," he'd said. From then on, he'd only opened his eyes when they were alone together, so no-one else could see that their eyes were different. Haruichi had never been happier.
Haruichi isn't sure what those dark eyes are telling him now, half-lidded yet attentive. His face is close, so close, and his nose is almost bumping against Haruichi's… How long has he been watching Haruichi sleep?
There is something there that Haruichi just doesn't understand.
"What—"
Ryosuke's fingers scrape against Haruichi's chin as he tugs his mouth up and kisses him. It's a long kiss, gentle and thorough, even though Haruichi gasps right through the first half of it. Ryosuke's mouth is achingly strange and familiar at the same time. Haruichi's had this kiss so many times in his head, but never — ever — did he think that this could actually…
When Ryosuke pulls back sometime later, he drags every fantasy Haruichi's ever had, hidden deep within him, to the surface. A tsunami of emotion, of hope and heat and longing, swells within him. Haruichi clings to him, eyes wide, face flushed.
"Don't look at me like that," says Ryosuke, his fingers rough as they run over Haruichi's jaw. They are baseball fingers, callused from bats and balls and long hours at the gym.
"H-how am I supposed to look?" Haruichi says. It's so difficult to make eye contact with him, when Haruichi's whole body is trembling, but he forces himself to. "When you kiss me like that?"
Ryosuke doesn't answer. Maybe he doesn't know, either. Or maybe he doesn't care. He kisses Haruichi again, sweet and slow. Haruichi thinks his heart just might burst free of his chest and push it's way into Ryosuke's body.
"Your look expects too much of me," Ryosuke murmurs.
"I don't think so," Haruichi whispers, his mouth dry. "I think you can do anything."
"I won't be able to resist you," Ryosuke says. "If you don't stop."
Haruichi doesn't know what sort of look he's wearing, but he wishes he did. If this is what makes Ryosuke kiss him, he'll wear it all the time.
"Then don't resist," he says. His cheeks are pink, and both he and Ryosuke (he can tell, just from the way Ryosuke's mouth dips) are surprised by his daring words. This time, his heartbeat thundering in his ears, it is Haruichi who moves in closer. He twists his fingers in Ryosuke's hair. It's still damp from the bath…
There is suddenly a vivid flash of light. Haruichi squints, momentarily blinded, barely a breath away from Ryosuke's lips.
Camera…?
Bewildered, Haruichi blinks at him. Ryosuke suddenly tosses him a smug smirk. He is holding his cell phone in one hand.
"Cute face, Haruichi."
Haruichi's face flames. A terrible, heated mix of embarrassment and outrage overcomes him, and he shoves Ryosuke back hard, almost knocking him into the wall. "Ryosuke!"
Ryosuke surges forward and kisses him again, this time without any hesitation or slowness. The intensity of it drives away any self-doubts that've just sprung up. Haruichi struggles with the simultaneous desire to lean into him and knock him away —
And the camera flashes again.
Haruichi jabs Ryosuke as hard as he can in the ribs with his elbow (he's still kept a category of Ryosuke's weak spots, even after all these years) and Ryosuke yelps. Haruichi takes that precious second to snatch the cell phone away from him. He scurries to the other side of the bed, flipping through the photos. A few of him sleeping— his face, looking at Ryosuke with complete adoration (Haruichi is mortified) — and is that video of them kissing?! — but then he can't see any more, because Ryosuke tackles him, swinging a pillow at his face like a baseball bat.
"Oof!"
"Don't you dare delete those—"
"They're of me—!"
"Give me it to me!"
"Hey, don't— don't!—"
Ryosuke wins, because he always wins, by rolling on top of Haruichi and pinning Haruichi's arms down with his knees. He plucks the cell phone out of Haruichi's fingers. "You suck at wrestling," he says, with some cheer. "You haven't improved at all, have you, Haruichi?"
Haruichi flushes further, so hot he's sure his entire body will catch fire, starting either with the ember in his belly or the outrage further up, he's not sure which. "I—"
There is a knock at the door. A second later, a key fumbles at the lock. Haruichi freezes.
If someone sees him —
Ryosuke swivels towards the door. "Don't come in!"
The door handle pauses immediately.
— his teammates will never let him live it down, even with Ryosuke's aggressive reputation. They don't understand just how much he loves to torture Haruichi. Haruichi struggles against him, wiggling in desperation, but Ryosuke's thighs flex and push him back down. Why is he so strong?
"You'll hurt my ankle if you keep moving like that…"
Haruichi stills. He arches helplessly into Ryosuke, trying to catch a glimpse of Ryosuke's ankle. It appears less swollen than it was last night, to his relief, so he continues to buck Ryosuke off. Ryosuke doesn't even flinch, but his eyes glimmer like a predator's.
"Uh, Kominato-senpai," says a fearful voice from behind the door. "We need to change for our meeting with Coach, and our clothes are inside the dorm…"
The meeting with coach and the rest of the third-years…! Is it that time already?
"Get off!" Haruichi hisses. Ryosuke slaps a hand over his mouth, and Haruichi fixes him with a burning glower.
Then he can't help but stare as he sags back into the bed. Ryosuke pinches his cheek playfully, too rough (he's clearly been spending far too much time with Kuramochi), but Haruichi doesn't care.
Because Ryosuke is smiling again.
It's going to be okay. That's what Ryosuke's face says to him today. It's so good to see that smile, Haruichi thinks he might begin to cry all over again. Instead, he beams.
Ryosuke fixes Haruichi with that dangerous smile as he shifts his hand to twist in Haruichi's hair. Under normal circumstances, it would be terrifying. Right now, it hits Haruichi like a shock of electricity wherever they're touching.
He bends down over Haruichi until he's just a breath away — taunting him, no doubt about it, with those soft lips. Haruichi won't be out-done. If I can't kiss him on the lips, I'll kiss him somewhere else. He arches up and brushes their noses together. Ryosuke jerks back, looking startled.
"Eskimo kiss," Haruichi whispers.
Ryosuke stares at him before throwing back his head and laughing. Haruichi savors the taste of victory in his mouth, as sweet as anything he's ever tasted before.
There is another tentative knock at the door. "Are you coming, Kominato-senpai? And, um, Kominato's guest?"
"We're coming," Ryosuke says. His gaze flickers down to Haruichi's lips. Haruichi's breath hitches.
(Vaguely, Haruichi hears his teammates speaking with some concern. "Maybe he's torturing someone in there…" "Did you hear him laugh? It was so scary!" But they don't know how glad he is to be his brother's victim.)
"Together?" he asks.
"Yes," says Ryosuke. "Together."
They aren't going to Nationals. But Haruichi thinks their future has gotten brighter, all the same.
#
The End.
Thanks for reading, ya'll. :)