jongho centric, baseball au
main characters are jongho and yeosang but some of the other members are either mentioned or
appear for a short amount of time
heavily inspired by the movie 'the battery'
It was always about Minho. Everything was about Minho. No matter what.
Jongho didn't hate his brother. He tried to when he was younger because wouldn't it be easier to hate the cause of most of your problems? It didn't take him long to realise that he couldn't bring himself to despise the boy because, despite everything that has happened, Minho was still his younger brother.
Baseball was like a blessing sent from the higher beings. Holding the white-washed ball in his right hand with the worn, leather-bound glove wrapped snugly around his left, gave him a sense of peace that he hasn't felt in anything else. The tell-tale swish of a bat slicing through the air and the blunt 'pish' from the contact of the ball and the glove made relief flood his system.
He fought hard to keep baseball his. His mother -though he hardly knew her- seemed to make getting him to quit baseball her lifelong goal. The reason like almost everything else was Minho. He has a weak body she says, it's your responsibility as the older brother to prevent him from playing baseball she says, if he gets sick it's your fault she says. He'd do anything for his brother but quitting baseball was like willingly making his heart stop beating.
There wasn't anyone good enough to be his catcher though. Everyone he played with eventually lost the ability to catch his pitches. That is until he met Yeosang. After throwing the ball back and forth for not more than an hour, Yeosang was able to catch most of his throws. He didn't show it but it made him happy for the first time in a while.
The happiness didn't last. It wouldn't have mattered much if it happened during one of their daily practices. However, Jongho wasn't known for his luck and it had happened during an important match.
Jongho sucked in a deep breath, pulling his arms up above his head. He raised his right leg, drawing his right hand back. He let out the breath of air he was holding in and let the ball whistle through the air. Everything around him seemed to slow down as he fixed his eyes on the white sphere sailing forward. He could feel the heavy burden of guilt and frustration weighing down on his shoulders when the ball hit Yeosang's glove with a thwack that seemed to mock him, before violently spinning out of his grip.
It happened again. The very thing he thought Yeosang could overcome had won. There had to be something wrong with him and his throws. Yeosang was an incredible catcher, Jongho could tell after years of playing baseball. So many people he played with were good but his throws always seemed to overwhelm them.
Jongho began to decrease the strength of his throws in hopes that Yeosang would be able to catch them but he knew deep down that by doing that, he was giving the batter they were going against, an easy time hitting the ball. He could tell that Yeosang was growing increasingly angry and annoyed with each failed pitch and the mass in his chest seemed to double in weight.
His only saving grace was the coach of the other team storming into the field with a dark aura surrounding him. Apparently, the team had agreed to play the game without the consent of their coach and were violating some of the rules that had been put into place. After a bit of arguing, between the opposing team and their coach, the game had been postponed to the following week on the same day.
Once they were alone, Yeosang spun around and swung his fist towards Jongho's face. Jongho could fight back, could swing his fist back, could use everything he had learned when he was five to take his anger out on the other boy. However, he knew that Yeosang had every right to be furious with him so he let himself receive the hits he knew he deserved.
After Yeosang's energy and anger seemed to dissipate, he immediately left, not saying anything to Jongho. That kind of stung but he understood that Yeosang might not want to be in the presence of the person he hated. Once he was sure Yeosang had left the field, he stood up from where he had been laying, dusting his pants. He used the back of his hand to wipe off the blood from the corner of his mouth before he too made his way out of the stadium.
He pulled his headphones on and pushed his bike down the winding dirt path that connected the whole town together. The lamp posts provided little light as the sky gradually darkened. It would be faster if he rode his bike but he liked being alone which could only really be achieved by prolonging his arrival home so he took his time, going to the extent of making several loops around the same few blocks of houses.
word count: 838
