Chapter Text
Mei blinked at the sunlight spilling through the blinds, tugging his hoodie tighter around his shoulders. His phone buzzed — a message from Eijun.
Eijun: “Breakfast? I’ll make eggs. Don’t pretend you don’t want them.”
Mei smiled. His life was hectic, full of responsibilities and expectations, but these small mornings made everything feel… manageable. He texted back:
Mei: “I’ll be there in five. Don’t burn the dorm down.”
By the time he got to the kitchen, Eijun was already juggling a frying pan and a spatula, hair sticking out in every direction, eyes sparkling with that fire Mei had fallen for long ago.
“Careful,” Mei said, reaching out to adjust a stray lock of hair from Eijun’s forehead.
“I know what I’m doing,” Eijun replied, smirking, though his pan nearly slipped.
“You almost killed me with your cooking last week,” Mei teased, leaning close. “This is revenge.”
Eijun laughed, low and warm. “Worth it.”
Later, the two sprawled across Mei’s dorm couch, textbooks open, laptops humming.
Eijun yawned, resting his head on Mei’s shoulder. “I hate statistics,” he muttered.
“You hate everything that’s hard,” Mei replied, ruffling Eijun’s hair. “Including me.”
Eijun nudged him gently. “Not you.”
Mei let out a small laugh, heart thumping. Two years in, he still got lost in moments like this — quiet, simple, perfect. But sometimes, late at night, he felt the ache of all the things he wished he could change.
If only he had met Eijun earlier. If only he could have shared the mound with him when the fire was still bright and unbroken.
They were walking back from practice when Eijun started talking about pitching.
“I wish I could just… throw without thinking,” Eijun said quietly.
Mei glanced at him, remembering all too well how fragile that passion had once been.
“You can,” Mei said softly. “You just need to trust yourself. And trust me.”
Eijun smiled at him, squeezing his hand lightly. “I always do.”
For a moment, Mei allowed himself to just exist in that happiness, holding Eijun’s hand, walking side by side, wishing… that he could go back and do it all over again.
That night, Mei watched Eijun curl up under the blankets, scrolling through his phone with a faint smile.
“You know,” Mei whispered, brushing a strand of hair from Eijun’s forehead, “I sometimes think about how I wish I’d met you sooner.”
Eijun looked up, eyes sleepy but attentive.
“Then we wouldn’t have had all this,” he said softly, gesturing to the messy dorm, the textbooks, the fried eggs.
Mei smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple.
“No,” he said. “I’d still want more.”
And maybe, just maybe, that wish would come true someday.