Chapter Text
This time last year felt like a drag, when the team was trying to pick itself up from the excitement of summer despite the heap of school work stood in the way of baseball greatness. The crash made him unable to focus on academics, and he spent most of his study time in September staring blankly at words dancing on a page.
This time around it’s almost a relief; the extra work keeps his mind busy around the unexpected empty moments, so he hardly ever looks up from his desk a few minutes to midnight and think weird, Masuko-san’s not back yet.
But somehow standing in front of the shelf that is supposed to hold the answer to all his questions, Kuramochi still can’t seem to make himself focus. His attention is wandering: to the birds outside the window, to the guy from his class that he’s never talked to napping over a table in the back, to the third year library committee member twirling a pen between her fingers and occasionally giving him a sharp suspicious look that makes him wonder if there’s a blacklist behind the counter with a picture of him and a list of the terrible library crimes he apparently committed, to the people coming and going around him—
And he’s smiling before he even really knows why, sidestepping before he even hears a cheerful "you’re in the—"
The hand chop hits thin air and Kuramochi has already spun around to grin at Ryou-san’s slightly disgruntled "—way" as he frowns at his own hand like it’s betrayed him.
Kuramochi beams his most provocative smile. "Good morning, Ryou-san!"
The answering flick to his forehead is hardly a surprise, but he doesn’t dodge this time. Later, he’ll construct a dozen reasons for it; for now, Ryou-san is smirking in a way that Kuramochi can read perfectly — the kouhai haven’t lost spirit, they’re growing, they’re learning to fight — which is both intensely satisfying and.
Nice to look at.
"It's rare to see you in the library. What are you here for?" Ryou-san says, and the impersonality of it makes Kuramochi’s mood go down instantly.
"Civics," he groans. "I have a report due Monday."
"Ah. Komadai-sensei, right? So you've had the assignment for three weeks, and you don’t know where to start," Ryou-san accuses blithely, taking into account the one slim volume Kuramochi has managed to pick from the shelf.
Kuramochi slumps, with only a little exaggeration. "Please don’t kick me when I’m down, Ryou-san," he pleads with only a hint of reproach, and then he looks back at him and: "what about you, what are you here for?"
But Ryou-san isn’t looking back: he’s turning a serene smile toward the counter, and when Kuramochi follows his presumed line of sight he finds the library attendant smiling and lowering a hand, like she was just waving.
At Ryou-san.
"Grape soda," Ryou-san says, and Kuramochi’s confused noise probably earns him another black mark in the library records.
"What, now?" he asks, baffled, when the people around them are done glaring at him. No one has pulled that kind of blatant display of hierarchical power on him since he joined Seidou’s first string.
"Now," and Ryou-san's not even paying attention anymore, nodding distractedly at him before heading for the counter.
Kuramochi watches him for a second, but Ryou-san is entirely focused ahead and there’s nothing for it, so he does as he’s told even as something in his stomach tightens, crushing what's left of his good mood.
He heads downstairs and to the nearest vending machine, briefly consider getting Ryou-san Fanta instead of the soda type he favors, then decides that he’s better than that and buys the correct one.
He doesn’t have as much time as he wants to go back to the library because his free hour will be over soon, and when he comes back he finds Ryou-san still at the counter, still smiling amiably at the girl but now with a pile of books under his arm.
"You know you’re not supposed to drink in the library," Kuramochi says, putting the bottle down a little too hard on the counter. There’s a vicious 'senpai' at the tip of his tongue, but he holds it back.
"Like you’re one to talk," the girl says not quite under her breath before beaming a blatantly fake smile at him. "Should I check these out for you, then?" she asks, waving at the pile of books on the counter.
"What," Kuramochi says, frowning. "These aren’t—" and then he takes a look and they are, six books that he can already see relate to his topic and unbearable warmth floods through his body, radiating from the heart all the way into his toes and he’s grinning like a complete moron. "Yes, please," he finishes, nudging the pile in her direction.
Then he glances at Ryou-san, wondering if everything is written on his face. But instead of the sharp teasing he sort of maybe expects, Ryou-san lifts the can at eye level and says "thanks. How much was it?"
I love you, Kuramochi thinks. I love you when you’re an asshole and for your weird acts of kindness and I hate that you’re already halfway gone and I have to rely on moments like this instead of having you around eight hours a day. There aren’t enough moments left.
"It’s on me," he says.