A/N: Oh goodness, I am in love with Oofuri. I'm not actually done with season 1 and I don't want to be done yet ugh. ;~;
Anyways. I wrote this because I couldn't find one just like it and I wanted it. Hence, writing commenced. The imagination is a wonderful thing.
This is Abe/Mihashi friendship mostly (with a dash of Tajima) but you can see romantic feelings poking through, kinda.
"For the next three years, I won't get hurt. I won't even get sick!"
It was a rather foolish promise to make. After all, how could anyone possibly predict their good health over the course of 36 months? Abe was no fool. In fact, he was one of the most intelligent members of the Nishiura team. However, to keep Mihashi's faith in him, Abe knew he would have to make some sort of dramatic statement. He had intended to keep the promise, too, as a matter of fact.
At the very least, he hadn't been expecting to break it not even four months after it had been made.
It was after practice on Monday when Abe first began to notice a few signs.
His throat felt slightly raw, his sinuses were just barely blocked, and he started to find it easy to lose focus, which was decidedly unlike him.
Yes, he had certainly picked up some warnings. However, Abe being Abe, decided not to mention it to anyone. What was there to say? He was sure he'd be fine before their next game that Sunday. In the end, he opted for going to bed earlier and taking more vitamins.
After all, Abe wasn't one to get sick. It just didn't really happen to him.
Well. That was mostly true.
Abe had only had a fever twice in his entire life. Once when he was about three and he had been too young to remember it. The next time when he was thirteen, and it had caused him to miss the most important baseball game of his Junior High team's season that year. Since then, Abe had made a personal vow of sorts to not get sick like that again. The occasional cold was nothing more than a passing thing that didn't really affect his daily life too harshly.
Being sick was nothing but an annoyance, an obvious interference of baseball. And needless to say, Abe did not like anything getting in the way of baseball.
It was a cold Tuesday morning: or at least it felt cold to Abe. All he knew was that when he woke up he felt a harsh shiver run through his body; the thick comforter on his bed now felt paper-thin. However, even though he was freezing, his skin was slicked in sweat. His was finding it a bit hard to open his eyes all the way. Closing them again, Abe brought a hand to his forehead, pinching the skin between his brow, head gently throbbing.
Abe brought his elbows behind him to prop him up from his bed with a sigh. Even if some irritating virus found its way into his body or he had gotten some sort of bacterial infection from the unhygienic hell-hole that was high school, since he had been taking care of himself, he had developed a good enough immune system for his body to fight back.
Besides, Abe rarely got sick. And whenever he did, he found that in his experience, if he ignored it, it often didn't persist or grow to anything bad.
Ignoring it was the only option at this point. If it had been another point of the year, maybe not. But an important game was coming up that Abe knew he simply couldn't compromise because of a head cold. It was too trivial an excuse. All the same, he knew that jeopardizing his health would be just as bad for the team. So while Abe decided to let it go for the most part, he also decided it was necessary to nip it in the bud.
Damn it all, Abe thought angrily, but he couldn't seem to find enough energy to be all that resentful, for he tiredly sank back down into his mattress, and lay there for ten more minutes.
During school, Abe tried to remember if other students always quite this loud and irritating. He couldn't remember school being so noisy before. It was making his headache come back.
"Abe! Hey, man!"
Abe cringed as Tajima's voice rang though his ears like a siren. School had ended and the team's clean-up had come to greet him to go to practice with an enthusiastic slap on the back.
"Hey..." Abe muttered, trying not to let too much annoyance seep into that one syllable.
As they made their way to the field, an unusual silence fell over them. Though god, after today, it was welcomed. Out of his peripheral vision, Abe noticed Tajima looking at him quizzically.
"You know, there's something different about you," Tajima remarked. "You look..." Abe raised an eyebrow. "...Even angrier than normal today!" The third baseman gave a hearty laugh, and Abe made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan of exasperation.
Catching took more energy than usual, but that was to be expected. Thankfully, his stamina was not low enough to be noticeable. In fact, it didn't take long for Abe to forget he wasn't feeling 100% and set his mind to their practice. Their team was facing a rather intimidating opponent on Sunday, and it was imperative they were ready.
Mihashi was playing with his usual on-point accuracy, but his pitches felt surprisingly harder than they normally did, like he had improved on his velocity. Their practice was intense, but shorter than normal, as Coach Momoe felt before an important game, more time should be devoted towards rest and mediation rather than rigorous training. Still, when it was over, Abe was almost glad.
Mihashi furrowed his brow in puzzlement as he stepped off the pitcher's mound. Something was definitely off with Abe.
Although the pitcher was obviously not the greatest with school nor very adept at socializing, his years of isolation from his peers allowed him to develop rather astute observation skills. Back in junior high, Mihashi would often be alone at lunch (he was horrible at making friends, after all) and he grew into the habit of discreetly watching people and picking up on their habits. He'd never actually look directly in their faces for fear of making eye contact, of course; he was much too skittish and self conscious for that. But by glancing in their general direction and watching what they did, he could imagine what sort of person they might be. It was a good way to pass the time when he didn't have anyone to talk to. Which, unfortunately, was nearly always.
Therefore, because of these acquired habits, Mihashi had noted Abe acting somewhat strange during practice. His running had slowed considerably, his throws were just a bit weaker. When they were walking back to the dugout, Mihashi even saw Abe take off his catcher's helmet and sneeze twice into the crook of his arm.
He was acting downright lethargic.
But everyone could have off days. It wasn't that odd.
Except that it was. Abe always seemed so impervious to weakness. At least, to Mihashi, he did. Come to think of it, it was not just his demeanor that had changed: his reactions had, as well. During a break in practice, Abe had found out the pitcher had failed to properly go over their opponent's stats in preparation for Sunday.
"Mihashi!" Abe had shouted, temper flaring. Mihashi, of course, had braced himself. But then Abe's volume went down several notches, almost comically so, and he'd said, "Ugh, just… make sure to memorize it by Sunday... okay?" Mihashi had nodded rapidly, blinking in utter confusion, wondering what luck was on his side today that allowed him to somehow sidestep Abe's wrath.
When the team was filing into the locker room in order to change, Mihashi saw that Abe appeared run-down. Well, everyone felt a bit run-down, he supposed. Coach Momoe was working them hard this week. But still. Abe's face was a shade paler than normal, and he seemed to be perspiring more than the rest of the team. When they sat on the locker room benches to remove their cleats, Mihashi's eyes drifted to Abe's hands: they looked almost... shaky? The catcher was having trouble just getting them off.
Mihashi thought he heard Abe swear under his breath before bringing his hand to his mouth and coughing very softly and quickly, as if he was trying to hold back; his other hand rested on his knee was still trembling slightly.
He looks cold even though he's sweating, Mihashi thought.
Suddenly and completely without thinking, Mihashi reached over and put his hand on Abe's.
Abe looked up, his hand at his mouth slowly lowering, his eyes wide with disbelief that Mihashi was sure mirrored his own. The pitcher felt his mouth slack open and his face flush. Wh-What am I doing? he thought in panic. If Abe doesn't already think I'm crazy, he definitely does now! Stuttering, he tried helplessly to form a coherent sentence, "Um… uh, I-I, uh-"
It wasn't really working out.
Abe's look of shock morphed into one of vexation and something else- something almost guarded. "What is it, Mihashi?" he asked.
Startled out of his internal frenzy, Mihashi drew his hand away from Abe's like he'd been stung. "Oh! I- that is- i-it's nothing," Mihashi stammered.
Abe rolled his eyes and began to turn around to change out of his uniform. As he turned, Mihashi couldn't help but wonder if it was his imagination or if Abe looked rather embarrassed.
(Needless to say, though Mihashi's area in observation was great, his deduction skills were sorely lacking).
As the week progressed, Abe became too engrossed with analyzing their opponent team's strategy to really pay attention to how he was feeling anymore. However, his body remembered, even if his conscious mind chose to dispel it, and he naturally started to get tired around nine in the evening, much to his frustration.
Sunday arrived, and with it, so did the game.
When Abe stepped out of his house and glaring sunlight penetrated his vision, he brought his hand up to block the rays and groaned. His head was throbbing in protest but once again, he ignored it.
Mihashi needs me, Abe thought. The team needs me.
And it was true. They were still early in their high school baseball careers, and Abe knew that if he missed a game now, especially with Mihashi with his unpredictable nature (he could get upset over the most insignificant of things), the entire balance of the team could be thrown off kilter. It would badly affect Mihashi's pitching, and to win, they needed Mihashi's pitching.
Later, the game was about to begin, and as Abe turned to leave with the rest of the team to take their positions on defense for the first inning, Coach Momoe stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"This is an important game, Abe," she said, her brown eyes serious. "And you're one of our most valuable players. Don't let Mihashi work too hard and don't let him lose focus."
"I know, Coach," Abe said with an affirmative nod.
Momoe studied him for a second. "You feeling all right?"
"I feel fine," the catcher replied hastily. It almost wasn't a lie, for Abe had grown used to repeating this thought in his head over the past few days, as if thinking it enough would make it true. He was always so accustomed to being sick for only a couple days that based on probability and the usual power of his strong immune system, why should this case be any different?
Abe knew his body well and he certainly wasn't stupid. But denial was such a funny thing.
At the top of the fifth inning, Abe's body and mind began to get on the same page again. There was no point in lying to himself any longer because he was just too exhausted. But, at least they were winning. So even though he felt like hell and he couldn't really ignore the fact that he felt like hell, that was something.
The ninth inning ended.
Nishiura won.
Abe had played very well too, considering. He knew it, the team knew it, Momoe knew it. However, after both teams paid their respects to one another and everyone congratulated each other on the field, neither Abe's teammates nor his coach noticed him slip away to the dugout in the commotion. Except, Abe realized, perhaps Mihashi, who had been staring at him in a fidgety and frantic manner (not that this was anything new). Abe wondered vaguely if the idiot pitcher thought he was mad at him or something.
At the moment though, instead of disproving Mihashi's neurotic theories that he surely must be obsessing over on how "awful he was at pitching" and that "Abe must hate him", all Abe could really focus on was getting to the dugout and sitting on the bench. He only needed a minute. Just a minute.
It was harder to focus and- god, he was tired. His thoughts were mixing together and he couldn't really think straight. Had the dugout always been so far away? Finally, Abe reached it, though unfortunately didn't make it to the bench.
Somehow, he ended up on the hard floor, but the concrete was so nice and cold that Abe didn't really mind. This isn't half bad, he thought drowsily, the coolness of the cement providing comfort against the heat coursing through his body. Somewhere in the back of his mind, where his rationality lay, (and Abe was really quite a rational person), he knew that laying on a dugout floor in his condition was probably not the best of plans. But when in a state of fever-induced delirium, one's concept of a good idea tends to go out the door.
Abe's eyes closed and mind wandered.
Mihashi had noticed Abe slink off; he had heard him say something about "getting some water". Mihashi had watched him head towards the dugout, his usual confident stride now a lethargic shuffle.
Mihashi had watched him the whole game, in fact.
He thought it was a bit ironic that he was the one worrying, when usually Abe would be the one to be mindful of Mihashi's well being. Though Abe was often scary, Mihashi secretly liked that Abe was so over-protective. He knew it could only be because he was the ace, but it still made him feel cared about, if just a little bit.
Straightening himself, Mihashi realized he'd just have to go over there and- confront Abe about all of this! Yes, that was what he need to do. Though, confronting took fearlessness, and Mihashi was rather devoid of that. Well. Mihashi decided he'd go over and instead suggest to Abe that he didn't seem to be looking well and should get some rest. That was what Abe would do, if it were him.
Heading towards the dugout, Mihashi felt his body tense in apprehension. He didn't want Abe to get mad at him. But he had to say something. Involuntarily bracing himself, Mihashi opened his mouth to call out-
-only to find a familiar dark-haired figure lying on the hard cement of the dugout ground.
"Abe? Abe!"
The voice pierced through his temporary daze violently and Abe opened his eyes again, even though it was a little difficult. He noticed Mihashi first, his face etched with panic. Abe wanted to tell him to snap out of it, and opened his mouth to so, but found he could not form words: why was his voice so raw? Abe vaguely became aware of his other teammates rushing and congregating in the dugout; a stream of dialogue began to register within his earshot but he couldn't really decipher who was saying what.
"I need more ice over here!"
"Go get another rag, this one isn't cool anymore-"
"Wait, where is the ice, anyway?"
Closing his eyes again sounded like a good idea because all of this was so annoying but somehow Abe knew he needed to stay awake. He noticed Coach Momoe in the corner of the dugout on the phone; most likely with his mother, considering he couldn't exactly walk home, and his mother had missed today's game due to circumstances with visiting relatives. The haziness had started to wear down and his vision was much clearer. Bringing his arms behind him, Abe tried to use his elbows to prop himself up in an attempt to rise, a damp washcloth that he hadn't realized was there falling from his face in the process. A hand on his arm brought him down again.
"D-don't move!" It was Mihashi. Abe turned to him in confusion.
Mihashi's entire body appeared to be trembling, his eyebrows were furrowed in obvious distress and he looked close to tears. It wasn't as if this was very unusual, but Abe was sure Mihashi must look worse than him, which was probably saying something.
"I'm sorry," Mihashi whispered, voice wavering; he was crying now. Abe fought between the conflicting instincts to yell at him and to reassure him (not that he could have yelled in the state he was in, anyway).
What the hell is he talking about? Sorry for what?
Mihashi screwed his eyes shut. "Th-this is... this is my fault," he said, the tears now flowing. "If I hadn't- i-if I wasn't so-"
Abe wanted nothing more but to growl and tell him that it wasn't his fault and had been his own carelessness with his health that had been the cause, he couldn't seem to speak because he felt so goddamn tired.
Soon the waves of dreams began to engulf reality in their reverie, stifling the senses and releasing the subconscious.
Abe was dreaming.
He did not dream very often, and when he did, they were almost always sporadic and full of vague recollections of his past. Usually, the memories in his dreams were indistinct and meshed together in a stream. They were often neither good nor bad. However, this time, the images were clearer and more vivid, and they all seemed to be memories Abe would rather forget.
Abe dreamt of lost baseball games and the sick feeling of not succeeding. He dreamt of disappointing his parents; he dreamt of Haruna's arrogance and stoicism that had always left a burning frustration in the pit of his stomach.
Between the memories, he dreamt of the baseball field, with its green, short-cut grass and soft dirt and the clear blue skies that lay overhead.
But mostly, he dreamt of Mihashi.
Abe awoke to the cool touch of a hand to his forehead, the sort of nurturing affection that could only belong to a mother.
Upon waking, he remembered that between fits of dreams, he had actually been conscious enough to leave the baseball dugout and collapse into the car. Exhaustion had rendered any vigilance of his surroundings useless. He thought maybe he had been leaning on someone, but couldn't recall who.
All of a sudden, Mihashi's last words to him penetrated his mind.
I'm sorry.
Abe furrowed his brow in annoyance. What the hell was he sorry for? He didn't even do anything. Although, if he were to be honest, he did know the exact reason why Mihashi felt that way. Of course he did. It was all because of that promise, after all. That promise that he would always be there to catch for him.
But still. It wasn't really his fault.
His mother left the room, and after a small internal battle on whether or not to get up and just call the pitcher, Abe decided against it. He was still too feverish, and waves of exhaustion were still consuming his body.
It would probably be more effective in person, anyway.
Mihashi sighed as he gazed out of his classroom's window, chin resting in his hand. It was raining today. Not hard, though. It was a soft rain that pattered lightly against the window. He became mesmerized in the sound and tried to focus on the droplets that succumbed to gravity, leaving streaking trails of water in their wake.
But all he could think about was Abe.
His fault.
"Hey, Mihashi!"
Mihashi jumped, turning quickly to the source of the noise.
It was Tajima. He had a frown on his face and looked sort of concerned. "You okay?" he asked. "Class is over and you're still just sitting there."
"I, uh... I'm fine," Mihashi stuttered, giving Tajima a weak smile.
Tajima obviously wasn't buying it. He never did though, when it came to Mihashi. Mihashi often felt he could see right through him. "Uh-huh," Tajima said, raising a brow. "Thinking about Abe, am I right?"
"H-how did you-"
Tajima grinned. "Come on, man, it's totally obvious!" Then his expression sobered a bit. "Look, I heard your exchange with him last Sunday- I know you think what happened is your burden. It's not, though."
Mihashi started a bit. He hadn't thought anyone else would realize what had viciously occupied his mind since their game. And he also hadn't thought anyone could disagree with his belief that the whole thing was his fault. How could they? It was because of him that Abe had forced himself to come to the game. It was because of him and his unreliable emotional states that their team would lose without Abe. Abe, his personal stress reliever. It was just because of him.
But, knowing he didn't want to argue and that he lacked the actual ability to do so, Mihashi just nodded.
Somehow, Abe made his way to school on Wednesday, much to his mother's dismay. He felt much better than he had the days prior- and besides, his fever had broken during the night. Although he knew he couldn't afford to be reckless with his health at this point, his desire to talk to Mihashi outweighed his desire to stay in bed.
The day went by in a whirl of déjà vu- everyone was just as annoyingly loud as they were last week. It made Abe's head throb in discomfort. Finally, class ended, and students pored throughout the halls. Abe felt a hand on his shoulder, and because of his already heightened irritation from the commotion of students, he whirled around quickly, a glare set on his face. However, his expression softened quickly thereafter.
It was Mihashi.
Jesus Christ, Abe thought, he looks like he's going to cry right here in the hallway. Not like I'd be surprised. Sighing, he crossed his arms. "Look," Abe started, trying to choose his words carefully. "I'm not mad at you, okay? Can you not be so tense?"
Mihashi, whose arms and been stiff at his sides, fists clenched, and had been quivering, visibly relaxed a bit. "A-about Sunday-" Mihashi tried to say, but Abe cut him off.
"I know what you're going to say. And I don't blame you for what happened. At all. I was just being stupid."
"But- the promise-!"
"I shouldn't have made that promise," Abe argued, frustrated. It was getting a bit harder not to yell. Yelling, unfortunately, was a natural way for him to express his feelings. "And to be honest, I didn't really think a cold, of all things, could escalate that much. I wasn't thinking."
Mihashi's fists had fully unclenched by now, to Abe's relief, and he finally met his gaze. "So... you don't hate me?" the pitcher asked, his voice small.
Abe sighed. "No, you moron." Then, Mihashi took Abe's hands in his own, and Abe flinched, caught off guard. He had a jolt of memory of that day in the locker room the previous week; Mihashi had so suddenly put his hand on Abe's then, too. He hadn't really thought too much of it before (just chalked it up as another example of Mihashi being weird) but now Abe wondered if perhaps the pitcher had sensed how he felt. Curiously, he felt a little happy at the thought of Mihashi being attentive towards him.
Mihashi's hands felt clammy, as usual, but their temperature seemed... higher than normal?
"You shouldn't come to practice," Mihashi said, voice miraculously not wavering. His eyebrows set in determination, but then the newfound burst of confidence that had overtaken the boy seemed to diminish, because his eyes nervously darted at his hands and back to Abe. "Your, um- your hands feel cold, still."
Glancing at his hands, Abe realized it wasn't Mihashi's hands who were warm, but his that still had the quality of sickness.
His eyes went back to Mihashi's and widened in astonishment. Mihashi was staring at him so goddamn resolutely. It was the most unyielding Abe had ever seen him. "I know," he said, smiling a little. "I wasn't going to come today."
He tightened his grip on Mihashi's hands to let him know that this was okay- that it was all okay- before letting them go.
Abe didn't get sick often, this was true. He was adamant about up-keeping his health, almost neurotically so. Since he had always been naturally athletic, the maintenance of good health became an ingrained habit.
He let himself get carried away, that week; he had focused too much on not letting the team down. Not letting Mihashi down. And it was the third time in his life he had ever had a fever. Albeit it was interesting, but it wasn't really an experience he'd care for often.
Promises, perhaps, were not always meant to be kept. And yes, Mihashi needed him; hell, the whole team did. But Abe realized he needed Mihashi too. He needed support in his weaker moments, just as everyone did.
It was a new concept, learning to lean on others once in a while.
It was one worth learning.
A/N: Reviewing would make my life because I worked on this fic quite a bit. And I don't know if I write for Oofuri well at all. ): Not that confident in my writing sometimes.
So, please review and let me know what you think! :D