JC: The Photography AU I've been dying to write about, which was inspired by wahrheit-tiashe's tumblr fanarts of our Sunshine Child, Eijun. This story is told from Kazuya Miyuki's point of view and is also inspired by the experiences of my real-life photographer friend.
Disclaimer: I don't own Diamond no Ace or its characters.
"Photography can be an instant of life captured
for eternity that will never cease looking back at you."
- Brigitte Bardot
Unexpected Portrait of a Star
Every day Kazuya Miyuki would get up, groan, go for a walk with his camera, take shots as he strolls along, then have breakfast. He'd tried to smile with the opportunity to wake up every morning. However, he was falling deeper and deeper into a decline. If this had been a baseball thing, the only thing to do was to keep swinging his bat. But this was different.
Growing up in Tokyo as an only child, Miyuki developed a passion for photography at a young age. He was only seven years old when he got his first camera. It was a birthday present from his parents. He took up photography as a hobby—until he saw the gallery of the prodigious Chris Takigawa Yuu during his first year in middle school. However, Miyuki began focusing on baseball at his father's insistence, despite wanting to be professional photographer in the future. He proved to be a talented catcher and began his baseball career from middle school to high school.
He loved baseball and everything about it, but his life simply didn't revolve around the sport. After graduating from high school, he swapped his mitt with a camera and ventured into a world full of exhilarating colors that far exceeded his imagination—the world behind the lens.
Photography was an art, and art should enable one to find themselves and lose themselves at the same time. In his case, however, he was only losing himself to the point it was affecting his work.
As an intern studying under the tutelage of the genius Chris Yuu Takigawa, he needed to find a way to get back on his feet.
Good-looking, charismatic, and wise beyond his years—Chris had everything going for him. He was a professional photographer-artist who specialized in portraiture, fashion, and conceptual photography. Just after graduating from college, Chris became one of Japan's youngest, most respected, and awarded photographers. His photographs had graced the covers of various magazines. He has also won over 50 awards in both local and international photographic competitions.
Miyuki had idolized Chris since middle school, so it was an absolute privilege to work for him. He couldn't possibly let his idol and mentor down.
Miyuki stifled a yawn, and then gave his head a shake, trying to ease the sleepiness closing in around him. Having slept in this morning, he'd started out late. He had been drinking last night in his apartment. He thought a cup of coffee and a piece of French toast would bring him right back up, but it turned out driving to their photo shoot location was already exhausting him.
"Should I take over?" Chris offered with a concerned look on his face.
Miyuki smiled faintly. "I'm good." Keeping his eyes on the road ahead, he reached blindly for the coffee and took a sip.
"I noticed you've been off lately."
Miyuki's heart pounded with an anxious heavy thud. "Off?" he questioned, never giving Chris eye contact.
"Yes. You haven't been yourself ever since you came back. I've also noticed the drastic change in your photos."
"I'm fine," Miyuki assured the pro. "I'm just a little stressed with school and deadlines. You know how college works." He forced a laugh and sat up a little straighter in the driver's seat as he returned the cup back to the holder.
Chris sighed silently. "Art is a lie that makes us realize truth, at least the truth that is given us to understand. You've always been reclusive, but you've constantly expressed your emotions through your work." He watched how Miyuki's eyes widened for a moment at the words he spoke. "Miyuki, your photos used to touch the souls of viewers."
Miyuki laughed sadly at himself. "I just can't hide anything from you, Chris-senpai." His tone was conversational, but Chris sensed the sadness behind it. "I really don't know what to do anymore. I'm in a major slump and it sucks big time. I tried looking for inspiration, but I can't seem to grasp it."
"Photography for me is not looking, it's feeling. If you can't feel what you're looking at, then you're never going to get others to feel anything when they look at your pictures." Chris's eyes were so gentle and full of compassion. "I know it's been hard for you, Miyuki, especially since…" He let the words drag, deciding to end his sentence right there.
"Life goes on…" Miyuki said, smiling sadly. He genuinely appreciated his kind words and he did feel a little better.
But could he truly overcome this problem?
Why can't he get it right?
It had never been this difficult before. In fact, he couldn't even find the right angle and lighting anymore. The settings were a mess. Everything came out wrong in his eyes. Inspiration only seemed to come in short, abrupt bursts, only to be followed by echoes of emptiness.
Good photography was more than just taking pictures with a good camera. No, wait, scratch that. Even a very inexpensive camera will take beautiful photographs in the hands of an expert. Chris, who can make magic even with just an IPHONE 6, was a living proof of that. It was a matter of skill, ingenuity, and imagination. Like other forms of art, a well-executed photography would be able to convey ideas, messages, feelings and emotions in one way or another.
Miyuki was physically tired, but more emotionally strained since the photo shoot. None of his photos were able to impress their clients. He was losing credibility. His photos may be subpar at the moment but his ability to direct models was certainly not. At least, he was able to assist Chris in his endeavors.
Honestly, Miyuki was beginning to lose confidence in himself, but there was a part of him that was too stubborn to throw in the towel. So, when Chris offered him a project, he immediately took it without hesitation. It sounded easy enough, he thought. Concept was longing. The message should convey the heart's innermost desire. The model was going to be a young woman in her twenties. The photo should be able to describe the feelings, the experience, and the yearning of the person.
He had taken a lot of conceptual shots before. Conceptual photography was the art of creating photographs that illustrate ideas, stories, or a dramatic moment. Needless to say, it was his forte, even though he hadn't been delivering the desired results for a while. Perhaps this was the thing he needed to get back on his feet again. It wasn't going to be easy, but he had to at least try.
Prepping the equipment wasn't that much work, considering that he'd been doing this for years now, and he had always made sure everything was set before the session. He took a good look at the model beforehand and already thought of different poses and angles. The venue was a beautiful banquet hall with an amazing view of the garden at the back.
"I think I should make a few more adjustments…" he muttered to himself, walking out to the balcony-chamber to adjust the lights first.
After that little alternation, he seized the camera hanging from his waist and started tampering with the ISO and White Balance. With the desired settings in place, a test shot was up next. A useful exercise for any photographer was to make test shots whenever there was time, in advance of an important shot, and check them on the LCD screen.
He pointed his camera at the scenery below, bringing it into focus, as his finger hovered over the shutter button, getting ready to press it. Just then, in a span of seconds, just milliseconds away from taking the picture, something happened. He had often found that his camera worked like a magic wand, opening doors to great opportunities as if they were enchanted. He thought he had lost this magic…
…But it was still there.
With the click of the shutter, he pulled back, a little startled.
Did someone just…?
He checked the LCD screen to review his shot and his eyes grew wide.
At that very moment, everything in his world seemed bright again.
What he saw was so spectacular that it blew his mind, literally scattering it into minute pieces. He had met all sorts of beautiful models in his life. But he'd never seen a beautiful boy as breathtaking as the one in the photo. The warm, ambient light cast its glow upon his face, making his dark brown hair glisten like golden silk and highlighting the almost delicate skin of his cheeks and fullness of his light-pink lips. His eyes shone lustrously, reflecting the warmth of the lights. They were such a unique color, so big and beautiful, and held so much emotion inside. A lovely scarf embraced his neck like a lover's caress and he wore a dark blue coat.
Miyuki felt a sense of loss and longing from him. He looked innocent yet anxious. His golden eyes spoke a thousand words to him, touching the very core of his being.
Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat with a thunderous thud.
What was that?
In his heart, barely discernible but definitely there, he felt something. An achingly familiar feeling. After months of wallowing in pools of emptiness, experiencing nothing but disappointment, was his inspiration finally being brought to life? They were coming together, coming in waves, and he could already see concepts, colors and ideas brimming unlike the ones he used to take. He stood there in shock, unable to believe it. But when he looked at the boy in the picture again, the beating of his heart became a little louder, tugging at his urges.
Snapping back to his senses, his eyes quickly sought for the boy, but like a vision he was already gone. "Oh, shit…"
"I must say, Miyuki, these are quite impressive," Chris commented, projecting the image of professionalism, as he looked through Miyuki's shots on the computer screen. "You've managed to capture the model's emotion finely."
A swell of pride swept over Miyuki. A compliment from Chris felt a thousand times better than an A+ grade in class. "I'm glad you think so, Chris-senpai."
"However, all her photos pale in comparison with this one," Chris said, gazing at the photo of the beautiful boy with golden eyes. "This photo has touched me deeply."
Miyuki gave out an awkward smile as he rubbed the back of his neck apprehensively. It had been two days since that fateful night. Two days since he saw the mystery boy. Well, he never actually saw him… "I took that one by accident. The kid just popped in the frame. I don't even know him."
Chris's smile looked so warm, his eyes never leaving the boy on the screen. "Sometimes the best pictures are taken by accident."
"Yeah, we get that a lot," Miyuki said with a light chuckle before he cast his eyes on the photo.
Chris shot a glance at Miyuki and felt elated to see his protégé with that distinct sparkle in his eyes and the twitch of amusement on his lips again. Ever since Miyuki had first gazed upon the picture and peered into those golden eyes, he'd become enchanted by his mysterious charm. He admired him, wondered at him, and delighted to look upon him.
"Perhaps he is the one thing you need the most right now." Chris was well-known for being observant, and this particular photo with that particular model stood out as an important way to get him back on track. "And don't you think he'll be the perfect model for your upcoming project at school?"
Miyuki blinked in surprise. His initial thought had been to seek him out for his permission to use the photo for his portfolio, but he couldn't get his mind off the rich, radiant gold of his eyes, and the wonderful contours of his face. Because the boy was so beautiful, he reasoned, and as a photographer, he had to have him, no matter what. But he had to find him first and he had to start somewhere.
"Everything happens for a reason," Chris said, rising from his seat. "And I believe that you're meant to cross paths with this boy." He gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and started towards the door.
A slow smile slowly worked its way across Miyuki's face and into his eyes. "Time to begin the chase, huh?"
Sometimes, being friends with Youichi Kuramochi, an ex-yankee and currently a professional baseball player, could be rather difficult and not for the obvious, aforementioned reasons.
Kazuya Miyuki, a college student majoring in photography, could certainly say that they were friends since high school. They'd played on the same team, attended the same class, and had breathed the same dormitory air for three years. An impressive feat, considering he wasn't really that sociable. Heck, Miyuki didn't even need others to tell him that he had a nasty personality to go with his mouth. He had also kept everyone at a distance, as if it was the most natural thing to him, and seldom talked about his personal life. It was hard to find one that would put up with his shitty disposition.
Kuramochi, however, was one of the very few people who were able to break down his walls. So, yeah, Miyuki supposed that by the world's standards, they were officially friends, which wouldn't have been all that bad had it not been for the fact that this hot-blooded man was unbelievably blunt.
"Do pro baseball players have this much time on their hands?" Miyuki accentuated the sarcasm in his tone. Apparently, his search for the mystery boy had to be put on hold, much to his dismay. He had no say on it either, since he'd been forcefully hauled away to a café down the street from his apartment complex. Well, on the bright side, it wasn't often he'd get to spend some time with Kuramochi.
Kuramochi shrugged. Annoyance coated the fine surface of his face. "It's the off season, dumbass, and I already told you I have the week off from activities." He took a sip of his coffee and set the cup down. "You know damn well I deserve it! The shit I put up with…" During the off season, professional athletes were still required to train regularly to keep in shape and to enhance their performance, but rest was also a necessity and an important aspect in training.
"So, how's your team doing?"
"Ever heard of the news?" Kuramochi questioned him satirically.
"Ever heard of college? Should I introduce you to my professor from hell?" Miyuki replied, a grin twitching his lips.
Kuramochi grimaced and almost growled the words, "How about you stop being a cynical asshole for one minute?"
Miyuki scoffed. "And let you have the last word? No, thanks…"
"Remind me again why we're friends"
"You love me, that's why," Miyuki said with a mischievous grin.
Kuramochi rolled his eyes, making a slight sound of protest, as he crossed his arms. "Heard you weren't doing so well."
Miyuki let out a sigh. A part of him wanted to continue teasing his friend, but he knew better than to do that. And Kuramochi was highly perceptive, despite his rough and tough appearance. "Yeah…and it's been driving me up the wall."
"It's already been a year, hasn't it? But knowing you, I'm sure you're gonna overcome this."
There was no doubting the sincerity in Kuramochi's voice as Miyuki leaned back in his seat. "I guess so…if only I can find him…" he muttered under his breath, pulling the printed photo of the mystery boy from the breast pocket of his jacket. "Looks like my photos are coming back to life again ever since I took this shot by accident."
That certainly spiked Kuramochi's curiosity. The soft look in Miyuki's eyes, as his gaze caressed the photo, was quite a rare sight. "Mind if I take a look at that?" he asked, and Miyuki handed it to him without a fuss. He figured that it was probably a picture of a beautiful woman, so he was seriously taken aback the moment he laid his eyes on the model. Stunning doesn't even begin to describe the boy, who gave off such a warm feeling with his beauty. But that wasn't the only thing that surprised him. "Wow…This is just…wow…"
Miyuki's admiration for the mystery boy only grew. To be able to evoke emotions from the infamous cheetah of the baseball field was a true accomplishment indeed. "Hey, now, don't go falling in love with him. I saw him first," he said with a chuckle. "I've got first dibs."
Kuramochi grew a little flustered and the color of his face deepened a shade. "Idiot! Want me to punch your face in?!" he roared, slightly raising his fist.
"You wouldn't hit a guy with glasses, right?"
Kuramochi elected to ignore his question and his shit-eating grin as he slumped back in his seat, as if someone had just punched him in the gut. He tossed an awkward glance at the photograph again, clicking his tongue, and then proceeded to run a hand through his dark-green hair. "You are fucking kidding me, right?"
Miyuki raised a brow. Kuramochi seemed distressed somehow that he grew curious. He swiftly took the photo from Kuramochi's hand and sighed. "Are you that taken with him? Or is there something you wanna tell me?" he asked, nonchalantly waving the photo in front of his face.
"You don't recognize him? You really don't watch the sports channel anymore or read the papers?"
"Well, I do keep myself updated, but not as much since I've been busy. But wait… Does that mean he's an athlete?"
"He plays baseball, four-eyes."
Miyuki whistled in awe. He had never pegged the mystery beauty for the type to play baseball. "That means you know him, right?"
"Know him?" Kuramochi threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Dammit, Miyuki, are you being serious with me right now?"
Miyuki, however, blinked stupidly at Kuramochi, racked his brain, but could think of nothing to explain his rather peculiar behavior.
Grumbling, Kuramochi unzipped his backpack, pulled out the latest copy of Sports Monthly, and slammed it on the table.
Miyuki gave his friend a peculiar look and glanced down at the magazine. A baseball player was on the cover, a pitcher—a southpaw, noting that he wore his mitt on the right—and he was wearing the black uniform of the Fukuoka Softbank Hawks, which happened to be Kuramochi's team in the Japanese Baseball League. He had seen him play several times on television. His pitches were rather peculiar but interesting. "Isn't he that loud and obnoxious pitcher you told me about? I mean, man, you keep on nagging about him, but deep down you're pretty attached to him." He thought Kuramochi was going to get mad at him but he looked more amused than anything. "Okay…I get that he's the next big thing for your team, but why did you show me this?"
Laughing, Kuramochi tapped the cover of the magazine with his finger. "Hyahaha! Your eyes are shitty, but I know you're not blind, idiot."
Glancing at the cover once more, Miyuki took note of the pitcher's appearance. He was lean and fit—as expected from a professional player—and his face strong jawed, his dark hair a little unruly under the cap. He looked tenacious, fierce, but he was quite good-looking with eyes so gold that Miyuki wondered if he wore colored contacts.
Wait…Gold?
Only a handful of people sported such a rare eye color.
And then Miyuki's brain clicked. He glanced at the photograph, then back at the cover, and finally he understood. He looked up at Kuramochi, his mouth slightly agape. There was a brief moment of silence in the air between them before a mischievous smile crept across his face. "Hey, Kuramochi-kun, we're friends, right?"
Kuramochi knew what was coming and immediately responded with a resounding, "No way in hell."
"Oh, come on. I promise to treat you."
"You're talking to a pro who's rolling in dough."
"I need him for my project."
"Not my problem."
"I'll introduce you to this hot model I know."
Kuramochi paused, looking more annoyed than usual.
Miyuki was pleased with himself. That was hook, line, and sinker.
Miyuki felt ecstatic the next afternoon. He was brimming with energy, the weather was fantastic, and ideas were flowing. Although he was going to be flat broke by the end of the month, no thanks for Kuramochi's excessive demands in exchange for his so-called services, he now found himself standing outside the famous Fukuoka Yafuoku! Dome.
Located in Chuo-ku, Fukuoka, Japan, it was the home field of the Fukuoka Softbank Hawks. It was Japan's first stadium with a retractable roof. Together with the Hilton Fukuoka Sea Hawk Hotel and Hawks Town mall, it completed the Hawk Town Entertainment Complex.
"Yo, shitty four-eyes! You're right on time."
Miyuki turned his head and saw Kuramochi approaching him, wearing his team's varsity jacket over a black graffiti shirt and washout jeans. The pro player stifled a yawn before he raked a hand through his carefully-styled hair. Sometimes it annoyed and amused the hell out of Miyuki to see Kuramochi naturally pose like a model. Kuramochi wasn't the prince charming or the dashing white knight type of guy, but his looks had that distinct bad-boy charm that would rouse girls' inner wildness. Getting him to model for his camera was a great feat. Miyuki had to coerce him several times in high school just to get him to pose. Most of the time, he'd ended up being Kuramochi's glorified errand boy, though he'd make sure to return the favor with bribes and blackmails.
"Did you get dress in the dark again, Miyuki?"
Miyuki was clad in a white V-neck shirt under a plain gray cardigan and black pants, and he wore his white baseball cap backwards. His outfit was hardly a problem here, since it was quite comfortable, but Kuramochi had a knack of criticizing his fashion sense. Instead of being offended, he grinned like a sly fox. "I thought you were going to introduce me to a baseball player, not a fashion critic."
"Don't make me turn around and go home, dumbass," Kuramochi swore under his breath. When Miyuki just chuckled, he rolled his eyes and walked ahead.
There was hardly anybody in the stadium now, only a few staff doing their work and a busy-looking man in a suit on a cellphone. At the front desk, there was a woman who greeted Kuramochi, and he responded with a curt nod and a small smile. It was a quiet stroll to field, where practice was held, and Miyuki could barely hide his excitement as he heard the sounds of balls being hit.
"I'll introduce you after they're done with practice, got it?" Kuramochi said.
"No problem. Besides, I'd like to see how this kid rolls," Miyuki replied.
With a DSLR camera tucked safely in the confines of his waist bag, Miyuki followed Kuramochi to the stands, where they could see the players giving it their all in practice. The infielders, the outfielders, the pitchers, the catchers, the mound, the plates, the sound of the bats—everything in that practice field gave Miyuki a strong sense of nostalgia. The pure essence of the sport filled him up in waves. Baseball was still a sport he loved and enjoyed. Deep down, he knew he could never forsake it, even though he was pursuing photography.
Kuramochi led him to the bullpen next. As Miyuki laid eyes on a certain brunette pitcher, 'interesting' was the first thought that came into his mind. Kuramochi pointed him out. "Catch your mystery pretty boy pitcher over there," he said with a shrug. "Sawamura Eijun."
As expected the pitcher was loud. He was so loud that if he had used a megaphone, Miyuki bet he would have broken it. Sure, his loudness and boisterous laughter annoyed the hell out of his teammates, but Miyuki could tell that they really didn't hate the noise he brings. Kuramochi did say that Sawamura was sort of like the mood maker of the team.
Eijun Sawamura made his debut only a few months ago. The professional teams made a lot of noise back then with top pitching prospects making their big-league debuts, but the Hawks got their turn when Sawamura took the mound against the Saitama Seibu Lions. The talented 20-year-old southpaw may not have gotten the same kind of hype to the level of Mei Narumiya, Yomiuri Giants' current ace, but the Hawks have invested a lot in him.
A 'pitch-to-contact' type of pitcher hailing from Nagano, Sawamura had a repertoire of pitches that would astound any grizzled veteran on the field. His natural moving fastball pitch, breaking balls, and master bunting skills had the Hawks drooling over his potential and his first taste of the big league was intoxicating. He threw three scoreless innings of relief on his debut, and his cutter was so good that righty batters called it fierce. Within days fans were already chanting Sawamura's name.
From a catcher's perspective, Miyuki had to admit that Sawamura's pitches were fascinating to watch. When Sawamura delivered the first pitch of his professional career a few months ago, Miyuki's catcher instinct was once again brought to life. His hype, however, eventually died down due to insistent demands of college, along with the unfortunate episodes of his life. Watching the pitcher up close now, Miyuki had to remind himself every now and then that he was there for photography. Still he simply couldn't deny the catcher side of him—the part of him who wanted to catch his interesting pitches.
He took out his camera and started taking photos of him. Frame by frame, he captured his movement from the windup to the point of release. His pitching form was unorthodox, but it was known to harass batters due to the fact it would conceal his arm and the trajectory of the ball. His body was also naturally flexible with supple joints and a strong lower base.
The team catchers must have a lot of fun catching for Sawamura, Miyuki thought, feeling slightly jealous.
Who would have thought that the mystery pretty boy in the photograph would turn out to be the rising star pitcher of the Softbank Hawks?
Miyuki washed his hands thoroughly in the comfort room and wiped his hands clean with a napkin. The team was already done with practice and had retreated back to their locker room after a few words from the coach. Kuramochi had gone along with them for a chat, so Miyuki had no choice but to wait for him and Sawamura alone.
He stepped out of the comfort room and headed down the hallway, pulling out his camera to review his newly taken shots of Sawamura in the bullpen. He was so immersed with his photos that he didn't notice someone suddenly opening a door next to him and popping into his line of sight. He bumped into the person running out of the room, and the camera he'd held leaped out of his hands from the force of contact. He couldn't keep his balance as he wobbled, and his eyes grew wide in fear of seeing his camera break.
"Woah!"
Instead of a camera hitting the floor, Miyuki heard a voice he recognized.
"That was a close call."
His heart skipped a beat.
He turned his head to see who he had just bumped into. It was Eijun Sawamura himself! The pitcher had managed to grab onto him and the camera before it fell, and his arm held him securely around his waist. Sawamura had caught him with ease, and he couldn't help but be impressed. Miyuki was clearly taller than him, but height meant nothing to a hardened baseball player who had done some serious muscle training. The long sleeves of his compression shirt clearly delineated raw, muscled power beneath.
Sawamura's face was different from the one in the photograph, but there was still something endearing about it. His features were amiable, his skin slightly bronzed by the sun. It was impossible not to stare at the golden, blooming flower in his eyes. He had a childlike smile, so bright and perky that it was almost blinding. The more he peered at the pitcher, the more engrossed he became.
"Umm… Do you think you could, uh, stand on your own now?" Sawamura's smile turned a little awkward. "This is kinda hard for me. I feel like I might sprain something."
"Oh…" Yes, Miyuki was still in the arms of Sawamura, wasn't he? And yet—he wasn't quite ready to part from him. Maybe it was the desire to have him as a model, or the flood of relief that accompanied his encounter with the pitcher. Perhaps it was a perverse fascination with this sunshine or the fact he possessed enough charm to rattle his insides. Or maybe it was simply the feel of his rock-hard muscles beneath his hand.
Miyuki couldn't say. But touching him made him feel exhilarated.
"Um…Any time now…"
"Right…" Miyuki nodded and casually straightened up.
"Your camera's safe," Sawamura said, presenting the camera with both hands. "Good thing I've managed to save it or else the guys would never let me live it down if I couldn't catch something like that." He barked out a laugh.
Miyuki took the camera from his hands and checked on it. "Yeah, no damage here, so thanks."
"Just be more careful next time."
Miyuki fixed his roguish gaze at him. "Hey, now, it's not my fault this happened. We ran into each other because you rushed out the door without looking." Then he smiled, and the lazy quirk of his lips was intentionally provoking.
"What?" Brows furrowing, Sawamura lifted his voice. "You're saying that it's MY FAULT?! Are you kidding me?! If you had paid more attention, this wouldn't have happened! And I had to save your camera after all that!"
Miyuki laughed, but not because he was trying to make fun of him. He was just amused with his reaction. "Hey, now, no need to get so worked up about it." He touched a hand to his shoulder. "Besides…Isn't it amazing that we bumped into each other here? Must be fate, huh? We should grab dinner later on and—"
"Wait just a minute!" Sawamura shrugged his hand off his shoulder. "Are you a fan or something? It's not the first time someone asked me out like this."
Fan? Well, he was probably one, though Miyuki wasn't about to admit it out loud. Nonetheless, he never lost sight of his purpose. And so, Miyuki reverted to his professional façade. Sawamura was a potential model—the key he needed to completely escape from a decline. He was a photographer, and this was business. Strictly business.
He had no business studying Sawamura's exquisite golden eyes and that sensuous mouth of his. "Listen, I want you to believe what I'm going to say," he said. "And I want you to understand that I am sincere."
Sawamura blushed fetchingly, staring at him through trembling lashes, and Miyuki couldn't help admire the beautiful shade of red. "W-Wait…D-Don't tell me this is a confession?!"
At his reaction, Miyuki burst out laughing. "You think this is a confession? Hahaha!" His eyes positively shone with amusement behind his specs. "Wow! You're the best!" Tears formed in his eyes as he clutched his stomach and continued laughing.
Sawamura glowered at him, his lips pursed into a pout. "You bastard! Then state your business with me now!" he yelled.
Wiping the stray tear away, Miyuki forced himself to stop. "I'd like to take pictures of you," he said. "I want you to be my model for a school project. Nothing more to it than that, honestly, I swear."
Sawamura narrowed his eyes. "And why should I believe you? You may be a spy from another team or a stalker for all I know.
"Do I look that shady to you?" Miyuki merely smirked when Sawamura just leered at him. "Sawamura-kuuun." He teased the syllables out, as if tasting them on his tongue. "Don't be like that. Your senpai took the trouble of bringing me here today to meet you."
"Huh? Senpai?"
"Kuramochi."
Sawamura's eyes grew wide with surprise as realization hit him. "You're that photographer friend senpai told me about last night!" he said, pointing his finger in Miyuki's face.
"You know, it's hardly polite to point at someone's face."
Struck with embarrassment, Sawamura retracted his hand and looked away. "So, um, are you serious about getting me as a model?"
In an attitude of nonchalance, Miyuki draped an arm across his shoulder and leaned his weight against him. "I have an eye for these things and I've seen the potential in you," he said. "Plus, I like you already."
Sawamura's awkwardness quickly turned to exasperation. "Why are you acting like you're hitting on me?"
Miyuki's smirk greatly resembled the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. "Maybe I am."
"Ugh…You're creeping me out!" Sawamura said, trying to push his arm away. "Now let go of me!"
"Not until you say yes." Or perhaps Miyuki was just using this as an excuse to touch him more. He couldn't deny how much he enjoyed having him so close to him.
"IDIOT! Is this any way to recruit a model?!"
"Come on, I'll make it worth your while."
After much struggling, Sawamura finally broke free and stepped away from him. "I demand a fair trade!"
Miyuki sighed. Was Sawamura asking him for a modeling fee? Well, Sawamura was a pro baseball player who had done modeling for ads, campaigns, commercials and different sports magazines. Heck, he was even the brand ambassador for Japan's MIZUNO. Miyuki thought he could get Kuramochi to convince Sawamura to be his model for free, but it seemed like that wasn't going to happen. "I'm sure Kuramochi already mentioned this, but let me remind you just in case. I'm still a student, so there's no way I can pay—"
"I want you to catch my pitches!"
Miyuki blinked in surprise. Did he just hear that right? Were his ears failing him? Did Sawamura really ask him to—?
"You play catcher in baseball, right?"
"Did Kuramochi tell you?"
"Just answer me."
"Yeah, but I haven't played in a long while."
"Doesn't matter." Sawamura stared straight into his eyes, challenging him. "I'll agree to be your model if you let me pitch to your mitt."
He's more interesting than I thought. Miyuki laughed throatily, his lips curving into an amused grin. "You really are the best, Sawamura."
They fell into a routine and found they were compatible in every aspect. For the past two months, he had spent almost every weekend with Sawamura. Being with the pitcher was as easy as breathing. No angst whatsoever. Sawamura wasn't much of a fan of his shenanigans and teasing, but Miyuki loved riling him up. He'd always get a laugh at his amusing reactions.
During his first off-season, Sawamura was kept busy with public appearances, the meetings, interviews, and other baseball activities. When he had free time, he spent it with Miyuki. He displayed a good level of professionalism during shoots. He was open to ideas and listened to instructions well. He was a very fun person to work with.
And after every shoot, they would gather their mitts and play catch.
Miyuki watched him from behind the plate. Slowly and deliberately, Sawamura went into his windup, first stepping back, in the process bringing both hands together and lifting them high over his head, all the while keeping his golden eyes fixed on his catcher mitt. Turning his body, rearing his right knee to the level of his chest, and extending the leg as far forward as possible while pushing off with his powerful left leg, he fired a blistering moving fastball. It came in fast and hard, hitting Miyuki's glove like a firecracker.
Sawamura was loud, annoying, and stubborn beyond belief, and probably the most reckless person he knew.
But…
Miyuki found himself enraptured for the umpteenth time by this crazy pitcher. The way he moved his body so gracefully, yet so fiercely, made him look like a dancer moving to the elegant beat of music. And don't get him started on his amazing pitches.
"I bet we'd really slay batters if we're a battery," Sawamura said cheerfully, wiping the sweat off his face with a towel.
Miyuki grinned. "Aren't we a battery now?"
"In a game I mean!"
"Might be fun, especially with your pitches. We'd annoy the hell out of batters." Miyuki snickered slyly.
"You were amazing back then…"
Miyuki tossed him a curious glance. He couldn't see the expression on Sawamura's face, but his tone was somehow laced with yearning as he spoke.
"Aggressive game calling designed to stir up a pitcher's instinct…Tenacious, never backing down… That was Miyuki Kazuya's style of play."
Miyuki's eyes widened as his words sank in like a stone. Sawamura had heard a lot about his high school baseball career from Kuramochi. How much information he knew Miyuki wasn't sure, but it almost sounded like Sawamura had seen him play before.
"I know baseball isn't your life anymore, but I'm just glad you didn't give it up. What you're doing…Photography, I mean…It's really amazing and I admire people putting their all in something they love." Finally, Sawamura turned to him and smiled, not even blushing at having worn his heart so plainly on his sleeve. "Whether it's baseball or photography, you look the coolest with both!"
Miyuki stared at him for several long seconds. He had met all sorts of people in life. More often than not, he'd remember the people who scrutinized him for his choice of career. His father was no exception. Between photography and baseball, the choice should have been obvious, considering his talent.
What a waste…
You could have been a baseball star…
For a minute there, Miyuki expected those kinds of words from Sawamura. But nothing of sort came out of his mouth. Sawamura's words were sincere. His eyes were so genuine, so rich and vibrant in the shade of gold. Miyuki saw no lie and felt no deceit. Sawamura had spoken from the heart.
Miyuki sighed. "So...I'm guessing you know who I really am. Is that the reason why you asked me to catch for you?"
"More or less..." Sawamura tilted his head up to gaze the colorful warm hues of the sky.
"I remember Kuramochi mentioning about you being scouted by our school. Why didn't you come then?"
"I wanted to, but I couldn't. My grandfather got really sick by the time I graduated from middle school. I couldn't just leave him."
"How's your grandfather doing now?" Miyuki's expression turned sincere.
"He's no longer with us…" Sawamura sighed, a sad smile greasing his lips. "He died two years ago… His death anniversary was just 2 months ago."
There was it again. The same look he wore when Miyuki took that accidental shot of him. He looked so sad, lost, filled with longing, and yet still so beautiful. Miyuki had to fight the urge to drag him into his arms. What Sawamura felt on that fateful night, Miyuki finally understood them.
Sawamura chuckled, trying to ease the tension he brought. "If I went to Seido…I don't think we'd get along right away. I mean…You're kind of a jerk and you make fun of me a lot."
Miyuki's lips twitched with glee. "Thank you!"
"It wasn't a compliment!" Sawamura shouted, looking annoyed.
"Joking aside, we could have managed somehow. Just look at us now. Aren't we doing great as photographer and model?"
"I think you can manage fine without me."
"Now, now, don't say that," Miyuki said, draping an arm over the pitcher's shoulders. "We're partners, you know. In baseball a pitcher can't play baseball by himself, right? Well, it's the same thing with photography. After all, the best photos are works of art produced by the photographer and model working as one."
"So…it's like saying pitches are works of art too, huh?" Sawamura's lips twitched then slowly curved into a warm, glorious smile. "Back in high school, I've always wanted to form a battery with you. After all, you're someone I look up to."
"Is that a confession?" Miyuki teased, trying to ignore the hard, heavy beating of his heart against his chest. His pulse thrummed through his body, and he felt like shying away. "Are you confessing to me, Sawamura-kun?"
Sawamura pulled a face as he looked at him. "You sure know how to ruin a moment."
Miyuki laughed, inwardly struggling to calm his heart. "Oh? So we were having a moment?"
"You are such an ass!"
"I do my best to please." Miyuki decided he would keep his feelings in his heart, though he didn't understand them. He would ponder them and learn, and one day he'd probably understand them. For now, bewildered, he could only hide under all that playful banter and teasing.
It wasn't rare for Miyuki to observe people. After all, he was a catcher and a photographer. Both required a good amount of mental and observational skills to make sound decisions. And throughout his life, Miyuki had always observed people, whether intentionally or not.
So, it wasn't unusual for him to watch Sawamura as he slept, right?
He never intended for it to be creepy—hell, no—he just wanted to get a closer look at his features more. Not through the lens of the camera, not through a monitor, but with his own pair of eyes. He should have woken him up by now since it was already morning. Instead he'd spent the last several minutes watching the pitcher sleep on the bed, taking in every detail of his face, of his body, and the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.
Getting invited to cook dinner in Sawamura's rather lavish apartment was never in his list of plans yesterday, but he really didn't mind. He was also quite pleased when Sawamura actually told him to stay over for the night. And certainly he appreciated the various expressions Sawamura made over his food. Sawamura had commented on how delicious it was and how Miyuki would make a good wife someday.
Wife, huh?
He and Sawamura had grown closer than ever—bonding over photo shoots, baseball, crazy stories and food. They'd hang out whenever they could. Sometimes Kuramochi would tag along. The pitcher was great company, despite being so noisy and annoying at times, and provided great entertainment with his weird antics and over-the-top dramatics. Sawamura was full of surprises and there was never a dull moment with him.
And now, here he was, watching him sleep. Sawamura slept on his back with one hand nestled against the sleep-flushed curve of his cheek, his legs a tangled mess in the sheets. Never had he seen the serene, soft expression of a man lost in his dreams. Sawamura's features were soft now, like when he'd first laid eyes on him. His charm was unusual—the kind that can melt the heart of a man or a woman. That mop of brown hair as his crowning glory only served to soften his looks more.
This opportunity was too good to pass up.
Taking out his handy mirrorless camera, Miyuki adjusted the ISO and aperture and snapped a picture of the sleeping pitcher. He reviewed the photo and found himself wanting for more. The awareness of happiness was there, with the ceaseless appreciation of the moment. This was close to bliss, this feeling. Being with him, photographing him—it brought him so much satisfaction.
He crept around the bed, kneeling down to catch him closely, get the feeling of his serenity. All he had to do was to brush his hair and poke his cheek, and Sawamura would stir in his sleep, move, shift into another relaxed position. He made some adjustments with the settings and got his profile perfectly.
Miyuki had to admit to admiring him tremendously. This was a hard thing for someone like him to admit even to himself. Rarely, if ever, was he in awe of anyone. But this stunning boy touched him in so many levels. It was quite astonishing the way Sawamura had gotten beneath his skin, into his head, and into his heart. Sawamura was remarkable. His 'never give up' attitude, his drive, his courage, his silliness, his talents, kindness and good heart were all qualities he admired about him. But his strength, not physically, but mentally was what he truly admired about him the most. Sawamura had been through a lot of hardships and had come through it all.
Sawamura looked so peaceful, as vulnerable as a child, and he might have been someone he'd imagined just to satisfy his whims. But he was real. Far too real.
And far too tempting.
Sawamura sighed, and flung an arm out, hitching his shirt up and revealing a creamy patch of skin between the pants and the shirt.
Miyuki's mouth went dry. It was a sight to put ideas in a man's head and Miyuki found himself wondering what it would be like to run his hand across his body. He could imagine how firm and warm Sawamura's skin would be if he pulled his shirt up and replace it with his hands. It took all his willpower not to touch him in places he shouldn't.
He shook his head. He felt something much too powerful between them each time he saw him. Every time they'd touch he'd feel a strange sensation. It haunted him. It was like an irresistible force pulling him toward the pitcher. He couldn't understand why or how it had happened. He had to stop the feelings welling up inside him again.
He heard him sigh and mumble something in his sleep, and he shuddered in response, his eyes falling on the fullness of Sawamura's lips. They beckoned him, impelled him until he was mindless to where such invitation could lead to. He set down his camera and loomed over him, surrounding him with his sheer size and bulk. He leaned closer, their faces drawing near, and he could feel the heat of his breath mingling with his. He closed his eyes against the memory of their time together and finally touched his lips to his.
"Hmm…Miyuki…" Sawamura said in his sleep, the name soft on his lips yet somehow sensual to Miyuki's ears. He shifted again, causing his shirt to hitch higher and exposing a delicious part of his abs.
Miyuki swallowed thickly, feeling the inevitable tightening between his legs. He backed away from the bed and scrubbed his hand over his hair, awkward from the sudden blast of heat he felt around this pitcher. He realized exactly what had happened and what he had just done. Damn. His mind had gone haywire. And damn, his body had acted on its own.
Bewildered and muddled, Miyuki slipped from the room and headed to the bathroom. Shit, he needed a shower. A very cold shower.
The scent of food had drawn Sawamura out like a dog to a delicious steak. His golden eyes widened and seemed to shimmer in the morning light as he cried out in delight at the sight of Miyuki's fried rice. Miyuki had maintained his composure while he'd served him a plate, spouting some exaggeration about how amazing he was in the kitchen—which had helped drowned his thoughts from the little episode earlier.
Yet it still exasperated him to know that he would never become immune to Sawamura's allure. So, Miyuki, being the bastard that he was, had nonchalantly pulled the chair as Sawamura sat down. The pitcher fell straight to the floor, landing on his rear with a shriek of surprise.
Thus, the reason Sawamura had been yelling at him that morning as they took a stroll to the park. Miyuki watched his every expression with pleasure, laughing every now and then when, all of a sudden, his pretty face lit up brightly. Something had just made Sawamura as happy as his specially made fried rice…or rather, someone.
For some reason, Miyuki had found himself struggling to remember where he stashed his cellphone as he watched the interaction between his mentor and his model. When he finally found his phone, he checked to see who texted him and found out that it was only spam. Sighing, he put his phone away and approached the two.
"Good morning, Chris-senpai."
"Good morning to you too, Miyuki," Chris greeted back, looking ever-so-charming with a smile.
"I still can't believe you have THE CHRIS as your mentor, Miyuki," Sawamura said, looking all starry-eyed.
And Miyuki still couldn't believe that Sawamura and Chris actually knew each other. What's more, they were in pretty good terms. Chris had photographed Sawamura before for a fashion ad a few months ago. The pitcher had been so excited to meet Chris since his mother back in Nagano was actually a big fan of his works. Just after a few sessions, Sawamura officially became a fan as well.
"So, um, Chris-san, what brings you to our neighborhood?" Sawamura asked, and Miyuki swore he could almost see a tail wagging behind him.
Miyuki was pretty amused by the way the pitcher worshipped Chris, though sometimes he'd get this bitter feeling whenever Sawamura would give Chris more attention.
"I was checking out the café over there since it's going to the next venue for my project," Chris explained, giving the café down the street a brief glance.
"That café serves the best cakes!" Sawamura beamed.
"I have to agree," Chris replied before he turned to Miyuki. "By the way, I've seen the pictures you've sent recently, and they're all amazing. You've finally got out of your slump."
"Thank you, senpai," Miyuki said and he meant it from the bottom of his heart.
"I supposed I have Sawamura to thank for that," Chris said, giving the pitcher an earnest look. "You've definitely improved as a model. You're a natural now."
Miyuki glanced away, but not before he saw a faint blush stain Sawamura's cheeks. He knew it was illogical, knew he had no rights where Sawamura was concerned, but he hated the idea of him gushing over another man.
"I got complimented by Chris-san!" Sawamura said excitedly, pumping his fist in the air. "Hear that, Miyuki! Chris-san gave me his seal of approval!"
Miyuki rolled his eyes away while Chris merely chuckled.
A phone call from his manager suddenly forced Sawamura to stop his fan boy moment. He excused himself, saying that he had to take the call, and moved away from the photographers.
"He's more trouble than he's worth," Miyuki said wistfully.
"But he's worth the trouble for you," Chris said, observing the younger photographer. There was something in Miyuki's eyes now that suggested to Chris that he felt something more for the pitcher. Perhaps he was reading into it too much. But still, there was a look in Miyuki's eyes, whenever he looked at Sawamura, although Miyuki would have denied it, if Chris had asked him. And Chris also couldn't deny the sentiment he'd get from Miyuki's photos of Sawamura either. "I see you brought your camera. Did you take new shots of him?"
"Yeah, last night during dinner. They're mostly snapshots."
"Oh, so you had dinner with him?"
"He kept insisting I should cook for him, so he invited me over."
"Sounds like you had fun."
"Well, it's hardly boring with a noisy guy like him around." Miyuki let out a laugh. "And seriously, he's so fun to tease. I took a bunch of funny pictures of him."
"Really? Is it all right for me to take a look at them?"
"Sure, no problem." Miyuki pulled out his camera from the waist bag and handed it to Chris. He had taken so many pictures of Sawamura that he had a separate folder in his PC just for him. He stared at the pitcher, thinking of his sweet, cheerful smiles. He'd wanted to reach out and pinch his cheeks, found himself wondering what would happen if he did exactly that, and smiled. Sawamura would probably get all mad and flustered—he was one of those types who colored easily, his cheeks blooming a deep pink.
The smile faded as he recalled the kiss this morning, the light sweetness and passion of those brief moments when their lips touched. It was as if his heart wanted to burst out of his chest. His body had moved without his consent and rolled with heat he couldn't deny. Nonetheless, Miyuki felt guilty for stealing a kiss from him.
All of a sudden, Miyuki remembered the pictures he took while Sawamura slept. Turning to Chris, trying not to look fazed, he said, "Uh, senpai, there's something I—"
"He's adorable, isn't he?" Chris said, showing him the photo of the sleeping angel. "And he was completely unaware, correct?"
Miyuki felt like a thief who got caught, though he was able to look composed. "I just had to capture that moment."
"Ah, yes, I know that feeling, but this seems…" Chris gazed upon the photo again and breathed out a sigh of relief. "There's more to this than meets the eye. Behind the lens…The photographer himself…"
"Huh?" Miyuki's expression grew curious.
"You were gazing at him with strong feelings."
Eyes behind the glasses grew wide. That caught him off-guard.
"The camera doesn't lie, Miyuki."
Everything hit Miyuki all at once, a hard smack to the chest.
Miyuki moved uneasily in his seat, his gaze glued to Sawamura. He'd been watching him for hours now. He spoke with everyone, laughed at their jokes, and damn, he looked great. Miyuki almost regretted attending this party with him. It was a Charity Ball with the Softbank Hawks as the esteemed guests, and it was being held in Hilton Fukuoka Sea Hawk Hotel. He wasn't a big fan of parties, especially formal ones, but Kuramochi and Sawamura had insisted. In fact, if it hadn't been for Kuramochi and his no-nonsense manner of blackmailing, he should be lounging on his couch right now, reading the latest copy of Photographers Monthly, and not having this burning, aching, throbbing feeling in his chest.
He hated it. He hated seeing other guys come on to Sawamura. He especially hated seeing girls flirt with him.
Kuramochi's elbow gouged his ribs. "Stop staring at him, four-eyes, or else you're gonna bore a hole or something."
Miyuki pursed his lips.
Kuramochi chortled with amusement. "Although, I gotta tell you, Sawamura does look good. No wonder the girls are ogling him."
Miyuki's expression darkened at Kuramochi's teasing remark, although he couldn't possibly deny his claim. With that black fitted suit and styled hair, the blinding smile was overkill. Sawamura's manager wanted him to attract attention and it was working like a charm.
"That guy's crazy, but he does wear clothes with certain flair." Kuramochi took a sip of his drink. "And he's a natural with girls! Can you believe it?"
"Might have something to do with the fact that he has a girl for a childhood friend," Miyuki mumbled.
Kuramochi raised a brow. "Oh, so he told you about Wakana. Did he show you pictures? She's pretty hot. I wouldn't be surprised if they ended up together."
Miyuki scowled at him.
Kuramochi chuckled. "Hyahaha! Why don't you just give it up and admit you're sunk?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Yeah, Miyuki was pretty sunk, but he didn't need to admit it to Kuramochi.
"Don't worry," Kuramochi told him. "It only hurts until you stop denying it."
"Denying what? You're talking nonsense, Mochi-kun," Miyuki teased out the words, in attempt to irritate him, but Kuramochi immediately jammed his elbow into his stomach, knocking out some air. Miyuki doubled over, clutching his stomach. "That hurts… You really don't know how to hold back."
"Don't come crying to me just because you're too stupid to admit you're in love with him," Kuramochi said exasperatedly.
Miyuki brushed his hand through his hair in frustration. Kuramochi's words made sense, even if he hated hearing them. Kuramochi was too damn observant, too darn aware of the unspoken feelings Miyuki held inside. "That's easier said than done."
"Someone might snatch him away if you don't get your ass moving."
"You're being too pu—" Miyuki stopped his objections to Kuramochi's claim when Sawamura gave him a quick, innocent glance before strolling toward a table where two women sat. When one of the women touched his arm, Miyuki wasn't able to stand it. Knowing how dense Sawamura could be, Miyuki didn't want him anywhere near flirtatious girls. He started to move toward them.
Kuramochi yanked him back. "Jealous?"
Miyuki didn't want to have this conversation with him.
"Figures…"
Miyuki tamped down his irritation. "I need some air."
He had no right be jealous, Miyuki told himself from the seat of his hotel bedroom—the room Sawamura had conveniently booked beforehand in case they'd party late. Miyuki pinched the bridge of his nose. Seriously, Sawamura was nothing but trouble disguised in a pleasing package. A truly beautiful, adorable, heart stopping package that would make any girl swoon—but trouble just the same.
He sighed aloud, his shoulders sinking into the seat. Dammit, he had no intention of having these feelings in the first place. But it happened and now he was a mess.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw his gear lying by the bed. He had made plans with Sawamura to have a photo shoot the next day, using the hotel room as their venue. They were going to be alone, just the two of them in that room. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to kiss him again. Heck, he wanted to do more than kissing. Photographing him, framing him, reaching under his shirt and touching the muscles of his naked thighs…
Yes, he thought of all that, too, he admitted.
Knocks on the door snapped him out of his thoughts. Wearily, he rose from the seat and headed to the door. He figured it was Kuramochi, who probably came to berate him for leaving the party. With a sigh, he pulled the door open.
"Miyuki Kazuya!"
Miyuki blinked in surprise. "Sawamura?"
"Why did you leave the party? If Kuramochi-senpai hadn't told me, I wouldn't have known!"
Miyuki stared at him, but—rather than answering him properly—he pulled him into the room and closed the door.
"H-Hey! What's the big idea?!"
"I want to take your picture now."
"Huh? Are you serious?" Gold eyes stared back at him openly, curiosity sparkling within, and his light-pink lips made Miyuki want to kiss him right there. "I thought we were going to do this tomorrow."
"Change of plans." Miyuki realized he was being unreasonable, but he figured he needed to let off steam. Better distract himself with photography from those troubled thoughts.
"You're so unpredictable," Sawamura said, almost laughing. Miyuki thought he would start complaining. "Okay, so… What do you want me to do?"
"Lose the coat and tie. Fix yourself up while I'll go set up."
"Roger that." Sawamura went into the open bedroom, unbuttoning his coat and loosening his tie.
Miyuki slipped in after him and started setting up his gear. The hotel room seemed too big, too luxurious, padded and draped, as it was, and the light was almost caressing. The large bed was covered in smooth and cool sheets that would seem to caress those who'd sleep on it. He scarcely noticed that Sawamura had put down his coat and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. And he was remarkably poised actually.
Once done with the adjustments and equipment, they began their session—as well as Miyuki's inner battle with himself.
Sawamura played the light rather naturally. In fact, he was relaxed before the lens. He'd sink almost into a trance as Miyuki photographed him, responding just a little, as if he was actually feeling Miyuki's eyes on him. Like before, there was no stiffness, no posing, only a deep surrender to the situation. However, there was something seductive about him now, something Miyuki hadn't seen before, and it was tugging at his urges hard.
Miyuki took one of him sitting on the extravagant chair, his legs crossed formally, as he held a glass of champagne near his mouth. Then there was a good shot of him sitting up on the bed, back against the fluffy pillow, with one knee bent. Another excellent picture was of him standing by the window, admiring the view outside, with a glass in one hand. Sawamura's face was smooth in most of these pictures and his eyes shone like the warm sun. There were no smiles, but he looked soft, amenable, and tempting.
Oh, and far too irresistible.
And when Sawamura slid the shirt off his shoulders, letting it drape on his arms and exposing the creamy skin and solid muscles of his back, Miyuki found himself fighting for his sanity. His groin swelled with unmistakable arousal, leaving him surprised. If this were a dream, he wanted to never wake up. He thought about kissing him again, touching him. God, he wanted him badly.
"I'm not used to this, but I've seen models do this kind of thing, so…" Sawamura smiled as he met Miyuki's gaze. "My manager did say something about being topless for another fashion shoot. I think I'm gonna be paired up with another model. I'm not sure if I can pull it off, but—"
"You can't."
A gleam came into Miyuki's eyes, along with an expression Sawamura had never seen him wear before. "I can't? What do you mean?"
Miyuki set the camera down on the bedside table. His voice was almost like a thick growl as he spoke. "I don't want another photographer seeing you like this…or anyone else for that matter…" And when he thought of him pairing up with another model for shoots, the bitterness stung his heart. He didn't like the thought of some other woman or man touching him, holding him. Those were precisely the things he wanted to do to him.
"Miyuki?"
The possessive snarl in his voice…Miyuki realized this was a result of his attraction to him. There was no denying it. He also hadn't failed to notice the desire that burned in his heart either. As he stood mere inches from him, he traced a finger over one dark brow, then down Sawamura's cheek and over to his lips. "It's your fault…for making me feel this way…"
Tiny frown lines appeared on Sawamura's face. "You're not making any sense, Miyuki…"
"Oh, really?" Miyuki skimmed his knuckles over his jaw before roaming lower to the slender column of his neck, then back up again. "Are you really that dense?"
Sawamura shivered beneath his touch. "I-I…I don't—"
"The moment I laid eyes on you, I found my drive again for the first time in months…" Sliding his arm around the pitcher's back, Miyuki bent and pressed his mouth to the base of his throat. "It had been hell for me…ever since my mother's death last year... I thought I could never take a decent photo ever again, but…" He had lost his mother to cancer, something that he did not like to talk about. He took it very hard, plunging him into depression to the point he had to take a semester off. Ever since her death, he'd been nursing his own wounds and concentrating on how to move on. Chris and Kuramochi had helped him get back on his feet again, and he was grateful. However, as a photographer, he had gone into a slump.
Until he met Sawamura…
"You made it possible," Miyuki stated, dropping kisses against his skin in a leisurely pattern.
Sawamura's eyelids fluttered, one hand coming up to catch in the fabric of his shirt. "W-Wait, Miyuki…I…"
Without giving him time to speak out, Miyuki angled his head and kissed him. He realized now, more than ever, how much he wanted Sawamura as his kisses grew more demanding and persuasive. His arm tightened around his waist, yanking his flush against the length of his body. He kissed him like a man dying of thirst in the desert, desperately, hungrily, needing to taste him and feel against him.
On a quivering gulp, Sawamura forced himself to break the kiss. "M-Miyuki Kazuya, this is all too sudden!" He was a blushing mess, but he looked so adorable in Miyuki's eyes. "Y-You can't just k-kiss me like that!"
"Hmm…You don't seem to hate it," Miyuki prompted, and watched as his breath stirred Sawamura's long, generous lashes, watched as the beautiful shade of red bloomed across his face.
"T-That's not it! I'm…I'm just… Ah, dammit!" Sawamura shouted, still refusing to make eye contact.
An eager part of Miyuki wanted to ravish him senselessly, but the rest of him remained still. He put a finger under his chin and tilted his face to his. "Can you blame me? You're just too cute for words." He bent his head to his, taking in the golden glow of his skin. His breath caressed his lips first, gentle and warm. Then his lips whispered over his, just a shade more insistent than breath. He licked lightly the corner of his mouth, oiling the vulnerable hinge of his lips. "So sweet…" he murmured.
Sawamura swallowed the word, felt it slide down his throat to his belly, and lower…making him oddly hungry and warm.
Oh, but Miyuki was always a tease. So, instead of taking his mouth, he slid a hand to the back of his neck, cradling his head and tipping it back to stretch the column of his throat. He scattered kisses there, then down to the shoulders before he swept his tongue over his flesh in way that made him writhe. Sawamura shuddered and moaned, unable to keep himself from responding, and Miyuki smiled against his skin as he felt his fingers curling into his shirt. "You're loving this, huh?"
"S-Shut up!" Sawamura groaned, blushing more.
Miyuki's mouth settled over his ear, his breath heating the sensitive shell as his tongue traced its contours. "Be mine, Sawamura," he whispered into him, then his tongue flashed into his ear.
Sawamura's knees felt weak, leaving him no choice but to fall against him. "Miyuki…do you…do you love me?"
"If I didn't, I wouldn't be doing this, right?" Miyuki said the words gently. He claimed Sawamura's lips once more, making him flutter his eyes shut. His tongue struck a coaxing rhythm, mating skillfully with his. Needy and aching, he pressed his body harder against his, and Sawamura wriggled into his embrace. It felt so right to hold him like this, to have him in his arms, as though he was right where he belonged.
Miyuki roamed his body, stroking and caressing him everywhere he yearned for him. Soft touches, rough tweaks, sharp bites and gentle licks. He knew just where to place them that rendered Sawamura breathless.
"This isn't fair…" Sawamura whispered, shuddering at the cessation of his caresses.
A smile graced Miyuki's lips as he lifted a hand to caress his cheek. "Do you want me to stop?"
Lowering his head, Sawamura let his bangs veil his eyes. For a moment there was silence between them. "You really don't play fair…" There was slight hesitation. "But I…don't want you to stop." He looked up at him, his irises looking more bright and molten. "You better finish what you started, Miyuki Kazuya!"
"You're really the best, Sawamura," Miyuki said, his lips twitching in amusement, as he pushed him back onto the bed. He followed him down and crashed his lips against his.
It was there, under the caressing lights of the room, that Miyuki finally became one with his muse.
The day of the exhibit had finally arrived. The senior BA Photography students had curated an independent public exhibit, as part of their Visual and Professional Practice Module. The photos were astounding. Everything was in its places. The gallery area was full of people mingling and appreciating the works of art done by the students. It was definitely a success.
The students were asked to produce work based on 'something close to their hearts'. They were guided by inspiration, examples, and ideas. The students managed their own exhibitions—making the work, marketing, finding sponsorship, and working with the press.
Professional Photographer Chris Takigawa Yuu felt right at home there. As one of the major sponsors of the exhibit, he truly appreciated the creative works of the young, aspiring photographers.
Various photographs hanged on the walls, the feelings of every photographer felt in each. There were stories told without the need of words, images frozen in time, gateways to the past but also a path to the future. The camera was their sketch book, the instrument of intuition and freedom, and the photos were their expressions, their countenance.
Chris felt it so.
The way their lens point to adventure, he could feel their journey through the pictures. He could see the way the photographers had bonded with their subjects and models just to create those images. Of all the means of expression, photography is the only one that fixes a precise moment in time.
Indeed, this was the art he loved the most. The art of photography.
Chris stopped by a particular picture, framed on the wall. He had seen it before. The image was simply beautiful, captured for eternity. It was an instant of life that will never stop looking back at you. It had become a treasured memory for a certain photographer.
"Hyahaha! This is where it all began."
Chris gave Kuramochi a meaningful look, understanding what he meant exactly, and nodded in agreement. "An unexpected portrait that led him to chase after a star…"
A fond look slipped over Kuramochi's face as he gazed at the photo. "That bastard better take good care of Sawamura."
Chris could sense a spark of brotherly love in his tone. A protectiveness that caught his attention. "I'm sure you've made that very clear with him."
"Of course!" Kuramochi said with a chuckle. "Speaking of which… Where did that four-eyes run off to anyway?"
"He's probably having a moment with his camera," Chris told him.
CLICK!
In the gardens at the back of the exhibit hall, Miyuki was taking pleasure in taking pictures of the wonderful view of the lush green colors of nature. He'd grown bored with the pleasantries and the stuffiness of the event, and decided to take a break outside. It wasn't as if he was breaking any rules there and he had planned on going back after a while.
For now it was just him and his camera.
Tweaking the white balance, he pointed his camera at the magnificent view of the green grass and the blue sky. His finger hovered over the shutter button as he adjusted the focus until it was perfectly sharp. Within that moment, just mere seconds away from pushing the button, something happened.
With the click of the shutter, he pulled back, a little surprise, and quickly checked the LCD screen. He had often found that his camera worked like a magic wand, opening to great opportunities as if they were enchanted.
Yes, it was a silly notion, childish in a way, but the magic was indeed there, opening up to a dimension of endless possibilities with him.
A tender smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
A brunette had popped into the frame yet again. In the light of the warm sun, his skin looked fresh, his hair shone like burnished bronze. His clothes—a coat shaded in wisteria over a purple hoodie—served to complement the simplicity and purity of his character. Rich golden eyes glimmered joyfully and eagerly, as if a light inside his beautiful face illuminated them. The smile was dazzling, almost blinding.
It was almost as if the camera loved him.
But the truth was…
…It was the man behind the camera who did.
JC: And that's the end of that. Phew… This was another monster to write, but I'm happy with it. I have a bunch of photographer friends and it's always a thrill to work with them. They have so many ideas, concepts, and they see things differently. This piece is also my submission for #EijunWeek 2K16 for the Free Day. I was supposed to write about birthdays and parties, but my head got filled up with the photography au. Please feel free to comment. No FLAMES!