The stadium lights flickered on as the sun dipped lower, painting the empty baseball field in pale gold. You sat on the highest row of the bleachers, legs crossed, watching Seungmin pace the dirt like he was already being watched by scouts instead of pigeons.

“Why are you staring?” he called, tugging his cap down. “It’s making me nervous.”

“You say that every time,” you replied. “And you still show off.”

He scoffed. “I do not show off.”

“You literally adjusted your jersey twice.”

“That’s called professionalism.”

He swung the bat, the crack echoing clean and sharp. The ball soared, and he froze, eyes locked on it until it dropped near the fence. A slow grin spread across his face.

“Did you see that?” he asked.

“I did,” you said. “You’re unbearable.”

He jogged over, breathing hard, sweat darkening his collar. “You love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

He leaned in without warning, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “Liar.”

You laughed, pushing him back. “You’re sweaty.”

“And still irresistible,” he said smugly, stealing another kiss before you could dodge. This one lingered, warm and familiar, like it belonged there.

When he pulled away, his expression softened just a bit. He looked back at the field, quieter now. “I really want this, you know.”

“I know,” you said, standing and stepping closer. “Baseball is basically your personality.”

“Rude,” he muttered, then sighed. “But yeah. I dream about it. Like… actually dream. Stadiums. Crowds. My name on a jersey.”

“You talk in your sleep,” you said casually.

He froze. “I do not.”

“You yelled at an imaginary umpire last week.”

He groaned, covering his face. “Please tell me you’re lying.”

“I’m not. You also argued about a strike zone.”

“That’s tragic.”

You laughed, and he looked at you, eyes bright again. “Still,” he said. “If I ever make it, I want you there. Front row. Loudest.”

“I already am,” you said. “Even now.”

He smiled crookedly. “You’re my good luck charm.”

“Oh, please.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, hands steady at your waist. “I’m serious,” he murmured. “Dreams are easier when you’re around.”

You brushed your nose against his. “Then keep dreaming.”

He smirked. “And keep kissing you?”

“Obviously.”

He stole one more kiss before grabbing his bat again, jogging back onto the field like the future was already waiting for him—and for once, you believed it was.