Choso always hated the ambience of the field.

A little ironic, considering how hard he’s trying to succeed in this career. But he hates the attention of it. He just likes the baseball. Everything, the roaring crowd and the shrieks of the announcers. He loathes the culture of sports as entertainment. It’s purely a test of strength and diligence.

A test he has to win. Choso’s just shy of a contract to the MLB. He’s almost there. By the next draft, he’s got to squeeze into one of the teams. Suguru Geto, one of his teammates and the better players of his current team, has been helping him. One day, he’ll surpass him.

Today’s not that day, though, apparently. Every time he picks up the bat to practice his swing while he’s waiting to go up to the bat, it’s like the ball is purposely curving out to avoid the wood. Too slow.

It feels too heavy in his hands. He huffs in quiet frustration, setting the bat down to take a break. He sits down on the bench and gulps from his water bottle. Every athlete has their bad days, right? But anxiety creeps in anyway.

Iciness starts to creep up his neck, gooseflesh rising up on his arm. He notices your presence from a mile away. The noise of the crowd dies as he begins to turn around.

You. Oh, you. Humbly glamorous, loyal, kind, smart, funny you. Beautiful, both inside and out. Choso could stare at you for days if you’d let him. You’ve been such a good hype woman for the whole team. He gulps to not gape, watching as you brush past him to reach your boyfriend.

Did he mention that? You have a boyfriend, and it’s Suguru. He’s the golden boy, handsome, athletic, talented, favored by men and women alike, and one of the players that make the most money in the team. Choso watches as Suguru smiles wide, strong arms bracing your waist as he kisses you in front of the team. The men snicker, but Suguru doesn’t care. He brushes your hair back, whispering to you lovingly as he guides you to a more comfortable seat on the bench. You’re a beautiful couple, he won’t lie. But his chest tightens each time you smile at someone who isn’t him. To think you and him have only exchanged a few words of greeting the past six months him and Suguru

Choso looks away as Suguru starts to step into the field. The crowd goes wild, hollering encouragement for one of their beloved players. You cheer for your boyfriend, but start to make your way towards him. Choso swallows his anticipation, trying to look at you as much as possible from his peripheral.

“You should be watching him,” he starts, clearing his throat when you lean on the railing above him. He can smell your perfume from below you. It’s literal in the way you’re positioned. Above him, and out of sight, but your presence envelops him. He’s nothing in your world, but you’re everything in his. “He’s on a good run right now.”

“I just wanted to say hi. You’ve been on the bench all game.” You say, and he curses to himself in his head. Did you really only see his failures?

“I’ll go up soon,” he mutters, fixing his glove to distract himself. Even when you say things like that, he can’t help but be excited with just your presence.

“You get quiet when I talk to you. Am I really that insufferable?” you joke, smiling a little as you crane your head to his direction. Choso scoffs under his breath. Insufferable? You’re the apple of his eye.

"I didn't say that," he says, stealing a quick glance at you. He inhales to himself mutely, trying to suppress the fireworks of coveting for even a spoonful of your attention. He is so weak, so whipped for you, a woman he can never have.