(in parenthesis).
Inspired, in part, by Hikari Sasu, which is a beautifully rendered series of bittersweet doujinshi about this pairing.
Title taken from the 31 Days theme for April 18, 2006.
Since the day of Abe's unplanned confession and Mihashi's sort-of assent, it had become a daily habit of Nishiura's battery to walk home together. They would meet each other at the school gates — sometimes, Abe would have a bike. Whenever this was the case, there was always a private war within Mihashi over whether or not he should wrap his arms around Abe's waist for the duration of the ride. Abe, on the other hand, would politely pretend that he did not notice, but secretly hope that confused instinct would win over solid opposition.
They always stopped at the park en-route to Mihashi's house because the vending machine in that area sold a brand of chocolate milk that Abe knew Mihashi was particularly fond of, although he had discovered this through some sleight-of-hand (i.e. quizzing Mihashi's classmates and bribing Tajima into telling him things with h-games) and careful observation rather than a simple inquiry. They would sit at a bench together, with enough space between them to fit three of their teammates. They'd talk about strange things and sometimes it would occur to Abe to smack Mihashi over some small irritation that he had promised he would ignore but never managed to. He would always regret it later, but he would never apologize.
Abe would see Mihashi to his gate just in time for dinner. They would bid farewell the traditional way (Mihashi bowing, Abe managing a small nod), and Abe would stand his ground, watching Mihashi walk to his door. Most days Mihashi would only linger long enough to turn back and wave to Abe before stepping inside, but it was in the few moments that the light-haired pitcher stopped for longer than five seconds that Abe would hope.
"Abe-kun…"
"What is it?"
Mihashi would always blush and pause and look for an escape. Abe would always reign in his impatience and that strange prickling feeling at the back of his brain that made him weak. And then:
"I-I hope we do w-well in our n-next game!"
"Ah. Mm."
"J-ja, Abe-kun!"
A quick, embarrassed smile, and Mihashi would be gone. Abe would watch the door a moment longer before turning to leave. It never failed to amaze him, how his pitcher never did say the things he wanted to hear.