Quick chapter before going to sleep. Unedited. Sorry for any mistakes.

It feels like Eijun has said everything there is to say, but Chris stands there, quietly watching, lips upturned in a way that's not quite a smile, and Eijun knows he's waiting for it. It catches in his throat, that stupid word Eijun wishes he never learned. There is nothing good about goodbyes, and he wishes Chris would just turn around and walk away already because he really needs to cry and there's no way he's doing it in front of him. Not again.

Eijun raises his head, meets Chris' eyes and tries to imagine heading off to practice without having those same pair of eyes watching him, catching the tiniest inconsistencies in his form or grip—Chris can be such a perfectionist when he wants to be. He tries to imagine strategy meetings without the sound of the Chris Memo's pages turning; tries to imagine just one morning when he doesn't greet his senpai and see him roll his eyes, wordlessly wondering why they go through this every single day.

He tries and he fails.

"Sawamura?" He hates Chris' voice right now, so kind and tender, making Eijun desperate to cling to his presence even more. "What's wrong?"

"Don't leave, Chris-senpai," Eijun pleads, words tumbling off his mouth before his brain can even register them.

The next few seconds are a blur, but Eijun remembers strong, warm arms around his body and Chris telling him it'll be alright. And Eijun finds himself thinking everything might just turn out okay.

He might've said goodbye some time after that, but he's not sure. Everyone's an emotional wreck and the sadness is contagious, so much so that half the time Eijun doesn't even know what he's moping about, let alone what he's doing.

But Eijun makes sure to burn several images into his memory: Haruichi turning almost as pink as his hair when his brother wraps an arm around his shoulder and snaps a photo. "I'll have this framed and on my college dorm's wall," Ryousuke says. Masuko giving Kuramochi the most painful headlock Eijun has ever seen. "Remember this pain the next time you feel like bullying your kouhai," Masuko tells his former roommate good-naturedly. Tanba and Chris monopolizing a corner of the room and just talking, Tanba laughing while tears stream down his face, and Eijun doesn't even have to try to remember this one—he knows Tanba's expression has been etched into his mind whether he likes it or not.

Jun goes around awkwardly hugging everyone until he's face-to-face with Tetsu. He breaks down and tackles his shogi-loving friend, staining his shirt with tears. Tetsu shakes his head and traps the loud boy in his arms, stating, "This is why you don't have a girlfriend." Everyone laughs despite the situation.

The process of saying goodbye is long. Eijun wonders if all the underclassmen combined could grab the hands of time and slow it down, even for just a little while, just enough time to make a few more memories with these people. Just one more game of catch with Chris. One more match with Tetsu. One more shouting contest with Jun. Just one more day with everyone.

A voice from behind him breaks Eijun's train of thought. "You look stupid. Well, more stupid than usual."

Sleek arms are slung around his shoulders in a lazy hug, and Eijun tilts his head back to see Miyuki—all four eyes of his—looking down at him. If it were any other day he'd be shoving the catcher off by now, but today he doesn't mind the physical contact. He might even need it. God knows his legs are barely keeping him upright and his eyes are hurting from the burden of the tears he's holding back.

"It's alright to cry, Sawamura," Miyuki tells him. "Just tell me beforehand so I can get my camera ready."

"You jerk," Eijun retorts weakly. "You can cry, too, you know."

"I'm not really the crying type."

"Emotionless bastard."

"Thanks."

"That wasn't a compliment!"

He leans closer to Miyuki, resting his head on the crook of the older boy's collarbone. He doesn't even care that some of their teammates are eyeing them suspiciously.

"Come to my room tonight if you're feeling lonely," Miyuki whispers in his ear. "I have the place all to myself now."

"Then aren't you the one who's lonely?"

"Maybe," Miyuki says in a childish, sing-song manner. "You'll have to pay me a visit if you wanna find out."

-o-o-o-

Jump to later that night in Miyuki's room, and Eijun finds himself lying in bed with the catcher despite his better judgment. It's a tight fit—the bed was obviously never meant for two people—but Eijun manages to shift to fit the mold of Miyuki's body. Miyuki's hug is harsher this time, more desperate, as if he's hanging on to Eijun for dear life. And all Eijun can do is keep quiet, even when Miyuki's fingers dig into his skin and he knows there are going to be bruises there when morning comes.

They fall asleep like this, and Eijun may or may not have been dreaming when he heard Miyuki crying.