Home Run Ch. 01

"The president?" Yuma cuts him off, grinning mischievously. He knows exactly what he's doing.

"Shut up!" Jun huffs. "Most people aren't heirs to a company. I'm an outlier."

"Hahaha!" Yuma flops over on his side, laughing.

"What's so funny?" Jun leans over Katsu, putting a supportive hand on either side of his friend. Jun does his best to sound intimidating, getting up in Yuma's personal space. He doesn't go so far as to straddle him. That would be weird.

Yuma, in turn, blows air into Shiro's eye. He takes his threats as seriously as he would a kitten. "You're a dork."

"I never said I wasn't."

"You're such a tease." Yuma pouts.

"What?"

"Getting all up in my face like this after making such a fuss about me hitting on you."

"It shouldn't matter if you don't like me. You still haven't answered the question."

Shiro backs off. Is he leading Katsu on? He doesn't think he is.

"I never said I wanted you to stop." Yuma looks up into Jun's eyes. Dark black orbs as endless as the night sky. They watch Jun with the utmost sense of wonder. Katsu's brows knit together, tinged with this sense of guilt. Katsu can't maintain eye contact with Shiro as he continues to speak. His eyes trail off as his words do. "Isn't it obvious?"

It should be obvious. If Yuma were a girl, he would've known without a doubt. Because he's not, Jun wants to doubt. He goes out of his way to doubt, offering increasingly convoluted and unlikely explanations for Yuma's obvious behavior. Jun doesn't know how to feel about this. A mix of fear, excitement, and dread pool in his stomach. He's not ready to grapple with this information. What the fuck did he think asking would do? This is so stupid! "I'm not very good at this."

"You don't have to be" Yuma's hands trail up Jun's sides, the fingers gentle on the fabric of his shirt. He rubs circles on Jun's sides with his thumbs. His expression softens. His hopeful eyes look up at Jun. Yuma bites his lip.

Jun feels something bubble in his chest. In the back of his head he wants so badly to stay where he is. Lean into the mysterious sensation in his body. Jun can't. It's simply not an option. He can't stand to look at Yuma right now. It's too awkward. "I should go."

He leaves. As he looks over his shoulder, his heart sinks. Just look at Yuma's face. So dejected. Jun considers turning around, but he recognizes he has his own shit to work through.

'Work through' is a strong word for what he actually does.

Jun actively avoids 'it' as much as possible. It's uncomfortable and alien.

He goes to Mr. Goldburg after class, looking for a new tutor. The dull hum of the heating unit in the corner makes even the liveliest conversations here feel tired. The desks are all perfectly in rows. Mr. Goldburg cleans off the chalkboard as Jun approaches from behind.

"Excuse me, Mr. Goldburg."

"Hm?" He puts the eraser on the ledge and turns around.

"I was wondering if you had any tutor recommendations?"

"In this class?" Mr. Goldburg winces. "What happened to the tutor you had before?"

"Uhm." Jun lowers his voice and mumbles out in English, "He's gay."

Thankfully, Mr. Goldburg doesn't take this as an invitation to continue the rest of the conversation in English. Jun wouldn't survive that. Even if he understood, his nerves would get in the way of him actually speaking. Mr. Goldburg raises an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"

"No. There's nothing wrong with being 'gay'." Jun gets defensive.

"Then why ask about a replacement tutor?" Mr. Goldburg doesn't get it. Jun doesn't get it either. He's making shit up as he goes along.

"I don't want to encourage it."

"The homosexuality?" Mr. Goldburg scratches his head.

"Yes." Jun blinks.

"In the tutor?" The teacher furrows his brows.

"No."

Mr. Goldburg takes a moment to catch Jun's drift. Jun watches as the man's face goes on a journey. The teacher formulates a response. "Ah. I see."

"Shiro-San, I'm American. I don't quite get all the cultural quirks right away. I need you to walk me through the logic here."

"Yes, sir." Jun nods.

"So there's nothing wrong with it." The teacher waits for Jun to nod in response. Jun nods. "Okay, so why, if there's nothing wrong with it, is encouraging it a bad thing?"

Jun has to think about that. What is he scared of, anyway? He already suspects he doesn't like women. Jun supposes finding out for sure whether he likes men would be a point of no return. He'd have to live knowing he wants something he can't have so long as he is the heir to his father's company. "It's risky."

"How so?"

"My parents are very strict. If I am, you know... I'd never be able to, uh... better not to find out." Jun looks at his feet, shuffling in place.

"Eventually, you'll get to an age where your parents aren't around anymore. If you're lucky, this won't happen until you're in your fifties, and you could wait until then to find yourself... Just remember, the longer you wait to live your life, the less time you have to enjoy it."

CHAPTER THREE:

A week passes without a word from Jun. Yuma fucked up. He fucked up hard. He doesn't know what part of his brain thought it would be a good idea to drop the biggest truth bomb on his traumatized best friend, but here he is living with the consequences like an idiot.

Jun is a wonderful many things, excessively polite being among them makes it nearly impossible to tell if he doesn't like someone. He's the kind of guy that would talk about how much fun he had at the end of a bad first date, only to then quietly never schedule a second date. It would be a stretch to describe their little hangout as a date, but the same principle applies. Jun might simply never talk to him again.

Jun is leading him on. If he's in the closet and in denial, whatever, that doesn't change the fact that it hurts. It hurts to get pushed away platonically because he's gay, only for Jun to keep putting his face so close to Yumas. It's not fair. Nothing is ever fair. It sucks.

The snow makes his fingers grow numb, clenched tight around the bat. He straddles home plate on the baseball field. Despite Jun missing the two meet ups from last week, Yuma finds himself waiting longer and longer for his friend to show up. His denial and optimism are identical. The pitching machine whirrs. The dirt beneath his feet is frozen solid. Usually, he just bats one basket of baseballs. In trying to find an excuse to wait for Jun just a little bit longer, he's bat through three baskets.

His arm is sore. He can't bring himself to care. Sometimes hitting a ball with a bat as hard as humanly possible is the only way to feel alive. It reminds him he's tired, achy and terribly mortal. He bats his frustrations out until the sky turns red. By sundown, it's too cold for even the most masochistic of men to withstand. He had something so good with Jun. It gave him something to look forward to. Their time together is always the highlight of Yuma's week. Now he has to face the fact that his biweekly escape from reality might be gone for good.

Yuma takes the hint. Jun isn't coming.

He's finally done it. He's sure of it. Baseball extraordinaire, Yuma Katsu, pushed it too far. Him and his big dumb mouth. A fierce cocktail of anger and rejection lead him to the only gay bar in town. Yuma isn't old enough to drink, not that it stops him from trying. The legal drinking age in Japan is twenty. Yuma at eighteen is old enough to sit down in the establishment, but that's about it.

It's a small bar tucked into a dark corner, adorned with neon lights in the window. On the inside, everything looks charmingly dated. The counters at the bar look like something out of every grandmother's kitchen, if grandma happened to be really big into rave culture. The owner, an older woman named Izumi, looks Katsu in the eye as he sits down. This isn't his first time at this establishment. She knows from his previous visits that he's under twenty.

She doesn't say anything or kick him out. Izumi just looks at him, seeming mildly concerned. Katsu can't blame her. Seeing an eighteen-year-old in a bar looking for a one-night stand is never a good sign. She can't stop him.

Yuma orders himself a soda, so as to not completely waste Izumi's time. Izumi fills a glass from the tap and puts on her customer service smile. She starts a conversation with Katsu, as is the routine. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"I'm not exactly a regular."

"Regular enough. I know your name, Katsu-San." She puts the glass on the counter and slides it over. "So, what brings you back?"

"Can a guy not go to a bar?" He tries to laugh it off.

"There's always a reason with you."

Yuma sighs. There's no point in keeping up the act. She sees right through him like a ghost. "I met up with an old friend of mine." He lifts the glass to his lips and takes a sip. The carbonation burns nicely. "Boy troubles."

"I'll take that over family troubles any day of the week."

"Don't remind me. It's the little things. I miss having a family to eat with. Having people to go to for advice..."

"I noticed."

Katsu shuts up at Izumi's heckling and takes a long sip of his soda. It's pathetic. Katsu is a mess, financially, emotionally, and probably mentally too. It's mostly his fault. It was foolishly optimistic of him to come out to his parents. Or anyone at all, really.

The Japanese public has the same views on homosexuality as they do nuclear power or sewage treatment plants. Most people are in favor of these things existing, but most object to them existing as a fixture on their own property. So long as it remains this abstract idea, they never actually have to see in person, the sentiment is positive. The mere concept of 'coming out' is seen as selfish and 'western'.

This is the part Yuma didn't know when he came out to his parents.

Katsu's train of thought is completely derailed by a voice approaching from behind. "What's a pretty face like yours doing in a place like this?"

Yuma looks to see a man in his mid-twenties take the barstool next to him. Looking him up and down, he doesn't answer, only offering a small smile. Short brown hair, brown eyes, business suit and a stubbly chin. The stranger smiles back with perfect teeth, nothing like Shiro at all. The stranger speaks up again. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Izumi ever so helpful answers that question for Yuma. "He's not old enough."

"To drink. Not old enough to drink." Katsu says in an attempt to keep this guy from hypothetically moving on to some other twink. Is he really this desperate? "I could use the company."

Luckily for Yuma, this doesn't scare the stranger off. He feels the man's arm stretch over his shoulders and pat him on the back. "I can do that." He leans close to the fake blonde's face, smelling faintly of some form of alcohol. Yuma doesn't know what kind he's not an expert. The man whispers, "just between you and me, you look like you need a drink too."

"You're not wrong." If Yuma ever says he's never been drunk before, he's lying. Yuma knows his alcohol tolerance is complete shit. The stranger laughs. He pulls out his wallet at which a quick glance at the man's ID says his name is Taro something or other, the second name isn't visible.

Taro gets himself two bottles of beer to go and heads out the door. Yuma takes the hint. He follows the man outside into the dark alley. It's no worse than the alley Katsu lives in, he thinks nothing of it. "You got a place nearby?"

Yuma nods. Public displays of affection are heavily frowned upon in Japan. It's standard at this point to offer his apartment as a place to fuck. The two men walk together out of one alleyway and into another. Yuma can feel the man ogling his ass from behind. Tari hands Yuma the second beer halfway through their walk.

Yuma takes a sip and struggles to hide his distaste. Beer kinda tastes like ass. He swigs it down regardless. It burns his mouth and makes him feel light as if the fire turned his heart to ash and left it behind.

Yuma pushes the door to the apartment open. The stranger follows him inside, pinning him to the wall of the genkan with a kiss as he closes the door behind him. The blonde kisses back, needing no prompt to show enthusiasm. Being young, dumb and broken-hearted is encouragement enough to cling to a complete stranger, like his life depends on it.

They slip their shoes off with practiced precision, leaving them behind on the floor of the genkan. Taro politely doesn't comment on Yuma's living situation, yet rudely kisses the man down the hallway, where any resident could see it. Kissing is awkward and sloppy. The chemistry between the two is far from magnetic. What they have is getting the job done and nothing more.

Yuma stumbles backwards into the coffin home. There's an awkward waiting period while Taro crawls in after him and closes the door. It's cramped for sex. It always is. Their lips reconnect and icy hands feel up Yuma's chest beneath his shirt. Yuma puts his arms straight above his head so his partner for the night can slip it off of him.

Katsu grinds effortlessly against the man between his legs. He can feel the stubble shift against his face as Taro smiles into the kiss. Taro's chilly hands gently pinch at his nipples, earning an embarrassing squeak from Katsu.

"Look at you, so gorgeous." Taro mumbles into the kiss as he feels up Yuma's athletic figure. The desperate teenager undoes his own zipper, stripping himself down to his skin. Katsu lays there buck naked beneath this fully clothed man. He feels so exposed, but the alcohol leaves him feeling warm, fuzzy, and open.

Too open. Taro is so gentle with Yuma, whispering sweet nothings and praises so freely, he can't help but feel attached. In his head, this is what he's missing. This is the secret to love and the cure for his loneliness. The kiss breaks, and the crinkling of the familiar packaging makes Yuma's cock twitch. He reaches behind him for a small bottle of lube, passing it to Taro. "And prepared too. How perfect."

Honestly, Yuma could just melt. The cold, wet fingers circle around the ring of his asshole. The first presses inside maddeningly slow and the second seems to understand this isn't Yuma's first time and gets to work teasing his prostate. He feels like he could die right then and there. "More- oh please, please, more."

Yuma hates how desperate he sounds, his breath short and quick. It's embarrassing how little it takes to have him begging like a whore. The older man shushes him, pulling his fingers out. He wipes them off on Yuma's chest. The emptiness has Katsu clenching on nothing. The fat head of a cock rests heavily at the entrance to his hole. "I'm getting to it, pretty boy."

Yuma gasps. It feels huge. Most dicks do. It pushes in at a snail's pace. The gentle teeth to his neck send shivers down his body. The bulbous head of this stranger's cock holds so much weight as it glides along his sensitive inner walls. Katsu can't help but throw his head back and groan. It feels so good.

Taro thrusts with speed and accuracy that has Yuma struggling to keep quiet. He's not even sure he wants to. The smell of beer, the feeling of the man sucking a hickey onto his neck and gently fucking his brains out. It's too much. His cock aches for release. After a particularly hard slam against his favorite bundle of nerves, and a high-pitched cry, he comes. All the energy in his body shooting out the head of his cock in white.

Taro doesn't stop. By now the blonde is putty in his hands, drunk and easy to use however he sees fit. A few more thrusts and the man above him growls in approval. The stranger blows his load in the condom and pulls out. Yuma lays there basking in it, exhausted and clingy.

He feels the mattress shift as Taro zips up. Yuma sits up on his elbows, looking at the stranger with needy eyes. "Mmm, you can spend the night if you want."

"I have to go." Taro opens the door and crawls out to leave.

Yuma clumsily throws on a nearby pair of pajama pants and chases after him. See him out like an excellent host. Yeah. That's it. Oh, who is he fooling? He jogs down the hall and meets him at the front door. "Wait-"

"Hm?"

"There's a cute coffee shop not far from here. Would you maybe want to-"

Taro cuts him off. "I'm married. Goodnight."

Taro opens the door and steps out into the snow. He bumps face first into a young man with long hair, a box in his hands and a wooly black winter trench coat. Yuma recognizes the voice that apologizes for being bumped into. It's Jun.

Taro exits into the night, leaving nothing between Jun and the shirtless, shoeless Yuma Katsu. Nothing except the open door. To say Jun looks scandalized is an understatement. He's at a fully dumbstruck stare. Yuma looks down at himself, trying to determine how obvious it is he just had sex. He awkwardly wipes the cum off his chest with his hands and then wipes his hands off on his pants. "I uh. I wasn't expecting you."

Jun stands there, too stunned to speak.

"At all."

Still nothing from Jun.

"Isn't it past your curfew?" Shit, what time is it?

"Uh," His friend manages to make a sound but still doesn't know what to say. He looks to both sides like he's crossing the road. "Should I go?"

"I've got time, but seriously it's cold. Come in or get moving. I can't keep holding the door open."

Jun steps inside but doesn't take off his shoes. Instead, standing aside in the genkan for Yuma to close the door properly. Jun chews at his lip and looks to the ground.

"So, uh, what brings you out here at this hour?" Yuma props one hand against the wall, trying to look cool.

"I'm not supposed to be here. I'm- I just wanted to say-" Shiro looks like he wants to crawl into a hole and hide. His face is red. Yuma can't help but get his hopes up. "I thought about what you said the other day. About me leading you on. And I- you're right. I didn't mean to, but I did. I guess I have been for a while."

"Oh." Yuma can feel his pulse rise.

"I was going to apologize, but- it looks like you're over it." Jun's voice holds the slightest hint of venom. Oh, no. He's not happy to see Yuma with another man. Shit. This is fantastic and also the worst thing ever.

"I'm not over it." Yuma crosses his arms.

"Sure you aren't."

"No, really, I'm not over you. I'm a disaster."

"I- Uhm. I can't fix that." Shiro is struggling his way through this interaction. He holds the box out to Yuma. "I got you something. I mean nothing rude by the 'get well' card- It's just- it's what I could find. Also, I had to tell my parents you were sick just to visit this late."

Yuma takes the box. It's black with red ribbon and a card taped to it. Katsu bows, "Thank you."

"I don't think we should hang out anymore." Jun bows and turns to head out the door. "Goodbye Katsu-San"

The formality of Katsu-San is like a punch to the gut. Yuma chases after him barefoot through the snow. "Wait!"

Yuma loses him. He's gone. He can't feel his feet. His nipples hurt in the cold. The door closed and locked behind him, leaving him stuck in the cold until someone hears him banging on the door in his blue striped pajama pants. Everything officially sucks.

Someone opens the door for him after five minutes. He can tell this wasn't exactly in his neighbor's late night plans. He drags himself back to the safety and warmth of his bed. Yuma closes the dior behind him and wraps up in a blanket. He tugs at the red ribbon on the gift, taking the lid off of the box. It's an MP3 player. An old Sansa clip, earbuds included.

He turns it on, clicking through the menus. An MP3 player seems an odd gift for a baseball player at first. It means a lot more when he remembers Jun is big into music. It has a full playlist already loaded onto it. Yuma's heart aches at the thought of this being a custom mixtape.

Oh fuck him, it is.