03:
“Oy, Shibuya…you look terrible this morning. Did you wake up on the wrong side
of the bed?”
More like the wrong side of my mind, Yuuri thought as shuffled his feet
wearily on the sidewalk. The happy laughter of other students on their way to
school had him grimacing in response and for a moment, the world swam before
his eyes.
“Shibuya!” Murata cried out in concern as he held out his hands to steady his
wobbling friend. “What’s wrong with you today?”
“I don’t…I don’t know,” Yuuri replied with a small smile, thankful for Murata’s
support or he was sure he would have fallen to the ground. “I stayed up late
studying for the test today so maybe I didn’t sleep well enough last night.”
That would have to be the understatement of the century in Yuuri’s opinion. Not
only had he stayed up late to study, he had also fallen asleep at his desk and
had ended up having to experience…
(two lovers…bathed in moonlight…together as one…)
... yet another sequence of weird but vivid dreams. Each time, they had featured
the older versions of himself and Wolfram and although the dreams weren’t as
well-detailed as the first ‘vision’ (he had to call it that because he was sure
he hadn’t fallen asleep in the bathtub), it was still clear that those two men
were completely head over heels for each other. But unlike the first
experience, the dreams never had the two of them speaking or rather if they
did, Yuuri couldn’t make out whatever they were saying.
Not that talking is required when you’re too busy…
He flushed darkly and shook his head quickly while hoping that Murata wouldn’t
notice how flustered he was beginning to feel. The very idea of two men engaged
in such activities was bad enough in itself. It just wasn’t the cool thing to
do. It wasn’t as if he disliked guys who were into that kind of thing and he
did know two boys in school who were gay but it just wasn’t the scene for him.
Never, he thought fiercely. I’ll never allow myself to do something
like that. No matter how pretty the other guy is.
Not even Wolfram? Another part of his mind – the one he had labeled
‘Pervert Yuuri’ – teased.
No, not even him! He argued, unaware of the gamut of expressions that
crossed his visage as he continued with his inner battle. Murata was watching
all of this with great interest, by the way. Yuuri decided that he ought to
find himself a girlfriend first. It was a bit sad that in all his sixteen
years, the only girls that had shown any interest were only after him for
either help with their schoolwork, to borrow something from him or even worse,
his older brother’s girlfriends who considered Yuuri ‘cute’. He wailed inside
at his lack of sex appeal, something he had hoped to achieve by this time. But
no, the girls in his school did not care for skinny, sports freaks like him.
Aah, but I thought being in the baseball team would make me cool! Look! Even
Mizuki’s got a girlfriend and he’s definitely not that cute. Maybe if I cut my
hair a little…or maybe let it grow out a bit more that would make me more
attractive to the ladies.
“Say, Murata…what would you say if I decided to grow out my hair a little
more.” He toyed with the tips of the bangs over his forehead. Unwillingly the
image of the older version of himself came to mind and he bit his lower lip in
thought. If he grew it out that long…
“Hmm, I don’t know,” Murata replied as he stopped to inspect his friend
carefully. “You’d definitely look different but then again, girls seem to like
guys with longer hair these days.”
“Oh? Really?” Yuuri’s eyes widened with hope.
“Yeah!” Murata agreed with a firm nod as he pointed towards a group of girls
huddled around something. “They’ve been squealing over the guy on the front
cover of the magazine and he’s got very long hair.”
Another pretty boy? Yuuri thought with an inward groan as they walked
past the group. He managed to steal a quick peek and saw that the model in
question had extremely long but light purple-colored hair. Yuuri blinked at the
sight unable to believe that anyone could look that beautiful and call himself
a man.
Well, what about Wolfram?
“Argh! Not him again!” He really had to stop thinking of that guy!
“Not who again? Did you recognize the guy on the cover?” Murata asked, as they
made their way to their lockers to change shoes.
“No…just thinking of something else,” Yuuri mumbled, knowing that he definitely
couldn’t talk about that to his friend. He suffered Murata’s thoughtful
gaze for a moment before giving an inward sigh of relief as the bespectacled
boy shrugged and turned away.
“Oh yes, before I forget!” Murata suddenly cried out as he reached into his bag
to bring out the flyer he had meant to give Yuuri earlier. “I saw this in the
morning paper.”
“What is it?” Yuuri read the words, his eyes widening in disbelief even though
his heart rate was beginning to quicken. Murata noticed the change in attitude
and grinned in pleasure.
“Thought you might be interested in giving it a shot.”
“Are you kidding?!” Yuuri all but screamed in delight. “This is my chance to
make it to the Minors! There is no way in hell I’m missing this try-out! When
is it again…?” He read through. “Next week at the Royal Dome! THE ROYAL DOME!”
Yuuri was sure he had died and gone to heaven. Everyone knew that the Royal
Dome was one of the premiere baseball parks in the country and with such a
winning team to go with it, the Dome was now considered almost sacred
for any true baseball fan. Yuuri had only been there twice. The first time with
his father on his eighth birthday just to watch a regular season game and the
second time with his older brother, Shouri, who had taken him there about two
years ago for a playoff game. Getting tickets to the Royal Dome was not only
expensive but incredibly hard to come by. Every game was a sell-out with
standing room only spaces available or none at all. In fact, the Royal Dome was
any baseball player’s dream home to play in and now that it was under new
management – so to speak – things couldn’t possibly get any better.
“I can imagine that many people would show up for this,” Murata was saying,
laughing at the drool that seemed to appear from Yuuri’s opened mouth. “So
you’ve got to get there early. Of course you know I’m coming with you.
Someone’s got to look out for you, Shibuya.”
Yuuri could only nod, not really paying much attention to what his friend was
saying for all he could see now were his dreams of finally becoming a
professional baseball player coming to fruition.
Wolfram stood rooted on the spot as he eyed the flyer stuck on the locker room
wall. He could feel a dull headache coming and he had to bite his lower lip
hard from screaming in fury.
How could Gwendal do this?! Letting the try-outs become a public spectacle?! It
was going to bring disgrace and chaos to a team considered the best in the
country! Things weren’t supposed to happen this way!
“Isn’t this great news, Wolfram?” came the enthusiastic cry from one of his
teammates. The boy, who was actually the team’s catcher, slapped a meaty arm
around the blond’s shoulder. “Now we can all get a shot at the Minors!”
“Yes, fantastic,” Wolfram replied dryly, while removing the boy’s hand from his
shoulder. The boy reeked of stale onions and sweat and his headache was getting
worse. If he didn’t get out of this room quickly…
“Hey, what’s up with Mr. Perfect, huh? Angry that we mere mortals get to have a
shot at the big time now?”
Wolfram stiffened at the jibe from the dark-haired boy who was sitting on the
bench in the middle of the room, surrounded by his group of friends. Wolfram
tried to remember what his name was, while ignoring him as best he could.
Ah yes, Kei or something like that. He was considered the best hitter on the
team, wasn’t he?
Not that it mattered anymore. It was obvious that Kei was jealous of Wolfram’s
arrival and the possible loss of his once esteemed status on the team. It was
really a childish attitude to have when one thought about it. Wolfram smirked
and continued to change into his baseball jersey. He wouldn’t waste his time
dealing with Kei and his issues. He had more pressing matters to deal with, one
of which included speaking to Gwendal about his decision to make the try-outs
public. Wolfram was also sure that Conrad had known about this and hadn’t said
anything to him.
What do they think they’re doing? Ganging up on…huh?
Something wet struck the side of his locker, barely missing his face by a few
inches. There was a lot of snickering behind him as he stared blankly at the
soaked, dirty and quite smelly sock that had been intended for his head. His
features wrinkled in distaste but he was determined not to lose his temper.
“Hey look!” Kei crowed loudly. “Prince Wolfie peed on his sock!”
That had the snickers becoming full blown laughter. Wolfram gave a small smile,
eyed the sock again and in a move that was too fast for anyone to see, he flung
the offensive item into the smug visage of Kei Kishimoto.
“Uummmfff! What the fuck…argh!” Kei choked and stifled a cry of pain as he was
suddenly thrust against a locker so hard that he felt the world swim before his
eyes for a moment. He could barely make out the blazing green eyes before him
and almost soiled himself in fear for he had never seen anyone look so angry
before.
“You don’t want to fuck with me, Sanada,” Wolfram began slowly; his voice much
deeper and colder than his teammates had ever heard before. “I’m being
extremely patient with you and if you try that one more time, I swear you’ll
wish you had transferred to another school.”
He released Kei, watching as the bigger boy slumped to the floor with
dispassionate interest. As he turned to make his way out of the room, the rest
of his teammates made a pathway for him, everyone silent and in slight awe as
they watched him walk out with his head held high.
And if anyone was able to read minds, he or she would have heard the one
collective thought from the stunned boys in the room –
Wolfram von Bielefeld was too cool.
Practice went without a hitch and if the coach had noticed that many of his
players seemed to stay away from Wolfram or treat him with some kind of renewed
respect, he never mentioned it. Even loud-mouth Kei looked like a dog with its
tail between his legs. He wasn’t as loud and as obnoxious as he tended to
become during team meetings. In fact, Coach Ishida was sure that this was the
most well-behaved he had ever seen his team act. He scratched his head in
bemusement, while watching yet another dismal display of a bunt by Noda, the
first baseman. He sighed and crossed off his name on the notepad in his hands.
“Von Bielefeld!” he bellowed. “You’re up!”
Wolfram, who had been sitting patiently in the dugout, picked up his bat and
reached for his helmet. He placed it over his head and fought back a scream as
something wet and slimy fell into his hair, down his forehead and ears. He
threw off the helmet quickly and reached out to feel the gooey substance.
His jaw worked silently as he heard the undeniable snickers from a few players
– not as much as it was in the locker room – but he had no doubt it was Kei’s
cronies responsible for stuffing his helmet full of what felt and smelled like
weak glue.
“What the hell is that?!” Ishida yelled in irritation as he noticed what had
happened. “Who is responsible for it?!”
No one said anything, not that Wolfram was surprised. Ishida didn’t really
expect them to confess to such a prank, did he? “Permission to get this cleaned
up, sir,” he said quietly.
“Fine, fine…and as for the rest of you, ten laps around the field!”
Wolfram walked away just as he heard the loud groans and curses from his
teammates. It was quite a hot afternoon and it would be a good enough
punishment for the fools. It served them right for acting like a bunch of
children. Goodness, the thought of taking another shower in that public
bathroom was appalling but at least he was glad he’d have it all to himself.
He stepped into a stall and turned on the water, hissing a little at the first
shock of cold water shooting out of the shower head. Not surprisingly, he found
his thoughts drifting towards the events of the past few nights – of his near
drowning experience in the bathtub and subsequent dreams afterwards. He
trembled as the warm water cascaded his body, his lips moving silently as he
closed his eyes and tried to control himself. He placed his hands against the
tiles, forcing his sudden shallow breathing to become steady, his heart to stop
racing so fast or the growing heat between his legs. But no, whenever he had to
take a shower or a bath, the same thing almost always happened to him. It was a
prelude to foreplay – a ritual he had found himself going through each time the
dreams began.
Shibuya…his name is Shibuya Yuuri…
He groaned, his hands beginning to caress his torso gently, slowly. “Yuuri…” he
murmured thickly. The walls of the shower stall slowly seemed to disappear and
Wolfram could feel it again, the warm arms of his unseen lover wrapped around
his torso and those strong hands joining Wolfram’s to explore his trembling
body.
He whimpered and gasped as the talented hands found the hard and swollen piece
of flesh between his legs, almost cried out as the hot tongue laved his wet
neck, ear and lashes hungrily. Whispered words of desire and need were uttered
between them and together they moved as one, their breaths mingling as the heat
between them grew to a feverish pitch. Tears of joy slid from his closed lashes
as his lover took him – owned him completely. It never got old, this erotic
dance between them and each time it happened, it was a new and breathtaking
experience – one that he never wished to end.
“Yuuri…Yuuri…!” He cried out in ecstasy, his head thrown back, his lithe body
tightening in relief as he exploded with yet another mind-blowing orgasm. His
entire being shuddered with the force of it and he slumped weakly into his
lover’s arms…or rather against the wet tiles, his breathing harsh and uneven. However,
reality came rushing back as his knees gave way and he felt his buttocks hit
the wet floor. He blinked in confusion for a moment, wondering if he had fallen
asleep (or spaced out as the case may be), only to feel his cheeks darken with
humiliation as he stared at the thick white stains on the wall beside him.
Oh God, not again!
He washed them away quickly, refusing to stare below his waist while cursing
himself for falling into that trance-like state again.
Oh, please, I hope no one had come in here to hear me, he pleaded
inwardly, listening with abated breath for any sign of another student. But
thankfully, he was still alone and he let out a whoosh of air in relief. It was
rather embarrassing to go through this every time. At this point, he was really
beginning to get upset with the two men who kept invading his dreams and
thoughts. Their antics were beginning to affect his reality and the very idea
of being in the arms of that dark-haired boy (Yuuri) or simply talking
to him…
Never going to happen, he thought angrily as he turned off the water
with more force than necessary and stepped out of the stall. Shibuya Yuuri
can go take a long walk off a short pier for all I care.
He could still hear their laughter – his classmates all having fun at his
expense.
He hadn’t meant to fall asleep in class but coupled with his fatigue from last
night and Mr. Hanada’s boring History lesson, Yuuri had ended up ‘sleeping’
anyway – at least he assumed that was what had happened to him. But apparently,
he had begun to mutter someone’s name in his sleep and finally cried out as if
he had just pleasured himself!
But it felt too real, didn’t it, Shibuya? The damned ‘Perverted Yuuri’
spoke up again. It felt as if you were in that shower with him, didn’t it?
Admit it. You liked it, didn’t you? You liked the way he called out your name,
didn’t you?
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” he hissed angrily. “I didn’t like it!”
“Talking to yourself could be the first signs of madness or genius according to
the wise ones,” Murata said with amusement in his tone as he looked at his
friend’s blushing visage. “What’s the matter with you lately? You’re still not
thinking about von Bielefeld again, are you?”
Yuuri felt like he had been sucker-punched. He opened his mouth to deny it, but
Murata was already cackling in glee.
“Haha! You should see your face, Shibuya!” he cried out. “You are like an open
book, my friend. I can read everything.”
“Shut up,” Yuuri mumbled as he hid his face behind a textbook. It really was
embarrassing to think that he had dreamt of Wolfram again and If Murata
really knew the sort of things he was experiencing, Yuuri knew he’d never hear
the end of it.
“But really, have you thought about what he could be doing with someone like
Gwendal von Walde?” Murata asked with a thoughtful frown on his visage.
“What else? You saw how friendly they were,” Yuuri replied, feeling the bitter
taste of jealousy on his tongue again. “They’re obviously scouting him for the
Royals. I bet that guy he was talking to outside the restaurant was….hey!”
He sat up quickly, eyes widening with dawning comprehension. “That’s who it
is!”
“That’s who?” Murata asked in confusion, watching Yuuri begin to dig through
his bag quickly.
“Hold on…might not be the same guy but…now that I think of it…ah ha!” He
whipped out a small wallet-sized book which he unzipped to reveal several
baseball cards all encased within clear plastic for protection. He flipped
through them quickly but carefully, his cheeks now flushed with growing
excitement. Murata leaned over the table to peer into the book, knowing that
touching the ‘sacred’ baseball cards was a big no-no.
“Ichida, Sanders, Ohno,” Yuuri recited as he turned each page. He finally came
to a stop, his heart now beating much faster. “It’s him all right!”
“Conrad Weller,” Murata read slowly, as he eyed the picture of the handsome
brown-haired man. He was dressed in a Minor League uniform – the Kings – a
division AAA team under the management of the Royals. According to the card,
his stats were extremely impressive. He had a career .400 BA (batting average),
56 homeruns in one season – a record for minor leaguers, and on base percentage
of .425. He had played in the outfield and several times as a short-stop but he
would always be known as one of the greatest substitute pitchers in the history
of the Minor Leagues. He had pitched ten shut-out innings in his career with
all of them being strikeouts. No one could get a hit off the man!
“Wow,” Murata said in awe. “And you’re sure that was the guy with Wolfram?!”
“His hair is much shorter now, but it’s definitely him,” Yuuri said with a firm
nod. He caressed the card almost lovingly. “Damn, and to think that he was in
the regional game last week and I never got a chance to say hello.”
“Maybe he’ll show up to the try-outs,” Murata said. “You never know. Wait a
sec…he doesn’t play anymore, does he?”
“No, he had an arm injury. Car accident. Sad story.”
“Yeah…”
They fell silent, each lost in his thoughts, until Murata spoke again. “And to
think Wolfram is on friendly terms with him. You think that maybe Weller’s
coaching him?”
The thought had occurred to Yuuri but he didn’t want to believe it. How lucky
could one guy be? God, he was really beginning to despise Wolfram with a
passion…and it included the dreams the blond induced as well.
“Maybe,” he mumbled non-commitally as he shoved the card case back into his
bag. “Come on, let’s go home. I have to start practicing for the try-outs
today.”
By Saturday the fifteenth, the entire city was buzzing with the news about the
public try-outs. The Royals had never allowed their practices or club
activities known to the masses. It was one of the things that made them so
revered and respected. However, with the arrival of the new manager/owner, it
looked like things were beginning to change at a rapid pace.
The Royal Dome was packed with at least a thousand young men all eager and
anxious to begin the brutal test in the hopes of being selected for the one
week camp. There were several television crews and of course various scouts,
coaches and team managers from all over the country, with intentions of looking
out for prospective players for the new season.
Yuuri’s mouth was yet to close since his arrival in the early hours of the
morning. He didn’t think he had ever seen anything like this in his life!
Murata was busy taking as many pictures as he could, while he went around
trying to place some famous faces or ball players, many of whom he had stored
in his growing card collection. It went without saying that he was extremely
nervous about this. According to the rules, they would only have one shot at
displaying their skills before the ‘judges’. One screw-up and Yuuri knew that
his dreams could be shattered just like that. He wiped his damp palms against
his pants and tried to relax. The key to this was being calm and composed.
Getting all worked up over nothing wasn’t going to help. He hadn’t practiced
like a man possessed all week for nothing. He was determined to make it and
nothing was going to stop him.
“Hey….” Murata began slowly as he made his way towards Yuuri. “Isn’t that von
Bielefeld?”
Yuuri felt his heart slam hard within his chest. No! No way! He can’t be
here! It’s a look-a-like! It’s got to be!
But as his gaze followed Murata’s pointing finger, Yuuri knew without a doubt
that it was indeed Wolfram. There was simply no other person in the world that
could stand out in a crowd like that blond snob. Those locks of gold were an
obvious beacon and to make matters worse, he was standing beside Conrad Weller
– THE Conrad Weller – again, although several television reporters had cornered
the former baseball player to ask him questions.
“Oh shit,” Yuuri whispered, feeling his stomach fill with a million fluttering
butterflies, as he felt his skin break out in a cold sweat for Wolfram had
suddenly turned to look in his direction. And if those widened green eyes were
any indication, Yuuri now knew that he too had been noticed.
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