Catching Feels - KiriBaku Baseball AU (ongoing)

Chapter 7

"Your pitching was great today." Kirishima says plainly as he pulls my arms backwards, left over right, stretching out my shoulder like he usually would post-game. The opposing team had already departed, the bleachers were empty and the rest of the team had left after a quick stretch, making us the only two left.

I groan, feeling the stretch of my tired muscles and Kirishima's firm grip on my arms. "Thanks.." I mumble in response as he switches which arm is on top. We remain silent for a while as he continues to help stretch out my shoulders. Eventually he releases his grip and I roll my shoulders back a bit, but before I can thank him, he interrupts.

"Lay down. You need to stretch your legs out too, you ran a lot today and you were working your knee a lot too."

I bite back words of protest because I know he's right, and I know any weak attempt at arguing with him would probably fail anyway. I lie on my back, feeling the grass against my arms. "Lift your leg." He says plainly. As I lift my leg he places his hand near my ankle, keeping my leg straight and perpendicular to the ground. He holds the position for a few seconds before pushing back a bit, stretching my legs out a bit more until I can feel the tension and the slight sting.

"You've been a lot tighter lately." he mumbles as he lowers my leg a bit, allowing it to rest before stretching it back out for a few seconds. "Have you been stretching properly on your own?" he asks and, fuck– all the places my mind went..

"Yeah, I have." I respond plainly. He releases my leg and gestures to the other silently, the bad one. I lift it, allowing him to straighten it out for me. He stretches it out the same as the other, but once he finishes he spends a bit more time stretching out my bad knee. He places one hand on my thigh just below my knee and one above, making me bend and extend my knee in slow controlled movements. The soreness of my knee is probably the only thing distracting me from the fact that Kirishima has his hand on my thigh right now. "Kirishima, it's really fine– you don't have to–"

"Yes, I do!" he interjects suddenly. "..I'm just worried.. if I don't make sure you're taking care of your body, you're gonna overwork yourself. You're gonna hurt yourself because I know you, and you don't slow down and you don't take breaks– even when you're pushing yourself too far, and it's fucking terrifying Bakugou!"

I look away, unable to meet his eyes. "You try to hide it because you don't want coach to pull you out of the game, but I can see when you're hurting.. And don't think I haven't noticed how distant you're being. What's going on with you today?" I grind my teeth, fighting the urge to scream. How could he be so oblivious?

"Nothing's going on." I say standing up. "I'm going home." I state plainly, without even thanking him like I normally would, as I start to walk away. I head to the dugout to grab my stuff but Kirishima follows me. I ignore him as I throw my bag on my back and walk out.

I'm stopped by a hand wrapped around my wrist. "Bakugou, did I do something wrong?" he asks seriously, red eyes meeting my own.

"No. You didn't do anything. So just let me fucking go Kirishima. I don't want to talk about it with you." I respond harshly as I try to yank my hand away but he grabs me by the shoulders instead.

"What is it that you couldn't possibly tell me?! I'm your best friend, aren't I? Aren't I supposed to be the one you can tell anything? Or.. am I the only one who feels that way..?" He asks. I look at him, he seems hopeful for an answer, but my lack of response is disheartening. His grip on my shoulders loosens, he takes a step back, his arms fall to his sides and he sighs. "I'll see you tomorrow then.." he says dismally.

In seconds, I make the decision which changes everything.

I can't stand seeing the dejected look on his face, all because he thinks I don't feel the same way. Before he can turn to leave, I grab him by the collar of his jersey, turning him to face me, figuring if I fuck things up now, at least he'll know how I truly feel about him.

I pull him down to my height as I lift myself ever so slightly to meet his lips. I close my eyes, wanting to cherish what might be my last good memory of him, without having to see the horrified or disgusted expression he is most definitely wearing. His lips are softer than I imagine, and although they remain unmoving, just the feeling of his lips touching mine is satisfying, in the same way that plain water tastes good when you're dehydrated.

I reach up further, taking in as much of the moment as I can. His scent; comparable to that of apple wood and vanilla, so much more distinct this close. The lingering taste of the fruit flavored gum he was chewing earlier is on his lips, but it somehow tastes so much sweeter. A cool breeze against my burning face pulls me back to life long enough for me to pull away from the kiss.

Reality sets in.

I feel my throat run dry.

Fuck–

He's going to be pissed.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I take a few steps backwards, stumbling over my own feet. "I-I'm sorry." I mumble, not knowing what else to say as I turn on my heel, and I run. Tears stinging my eyes, wind burning my face, I run as far away as I can.

Word count: 998