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“Did you know the second floor has a gym with two indoor basketball courts?” Chenle calls out in lieu of greeting, as Jeno steps through the door. When he sits down to take off his shoes, Daegal bounds over and inspects the massive brown takeout bag next to him curiously.
“Oh yeah?” Jeno laughs. “I had no idea.” He decides not to tell Chenle he called Mark for several hours while choosing apartments, just so he could get input on basketball amenities from someone that actually knows what to look for.
“You won’t believe how much this area has to do,” Chenle rambles as he takes the bag and starts setting the plastic containers of sushi on the table, “There’s a huge dog park right down the block, the highest rated Korean restaurant in the country is barely a ten minute car ride away, and the shopping district is double the size of our last city. I even found the perfect rooftop bar to take Renjun and Jisung when they come up for Opening Day! And those basketball courts are fully hardwood!”
All of the details that fly out of Chenle’s mouth a mile a minute bring Jeno back to the conferences he’s been in and out of for the past few months, every last negotiation and arbitration meeting he sat down for, wishing it was Chenle’s voice he was listening to instead. Jeno’s time as a free agent saw seven different teams lining up with their multimillion dollar contracts, and between maintaining his off-season routine, flying in and out of major cities for tours, and returning to Seoul for WBC, it was a miracle he came out of the other side alive. He’s been in the big leagues for several years now, yet with how busy he’s been doing everything but baseball, he’s never felt so unprepared for the start of a season.
However, when Chenle circles back to the apartment complex’s two indoor basketball courts, Jeno is reminded of why he picked Neo City in the end—a simple text from Jaemin, with a link to an article about why the city was one of the best to raise a family.
“—and the basketball courts are heated and—”
Chenle pauses once he finishes setting the table and shoots Jeno a small smile. “There’s a popular bike trail that goes around the downtown area. We should check that out someday.”
Someday.
Someday Chenle will sign with an entertainment company, someday Jeno will be drafted, someday they’ll make it big, their entire relationship has been built on “someday”s. No careers are more volatile than theirs, hours of unpaid overtime and barely any room to exist before being shoved in front of cameras. They’ve been investing time, money, their bodies, for years, and it’s only recently since they’ve started seeing returns—more control over their schedule, a place to call their own, a fluffy, pampered daughter, all things they’d hoped desperately would be part of their “someday”.
Standing in their new apartment, where one of them is the biggest idol in China and the other is the MVP of the Korean national team, where the living room has enough space for a grand piano and office has enough space for a bicep curler and the bed has enough space for two bodies and a dog, Jeno thinks “someday” has become something of a promise word between them.
So, Jeno kisses Chenle’s temple and repeats back, “Someday.”
As they settle down for dinner, Jeno tries to make sense of the spread on the table. A lot of the rolls look like they have tuna in them, which would be highest in protein, but they’re also all drenched in strange, otherworldly sauces. There’s a startling amount of tempura too, and the thought of eating so much fried food makes him wince; if his old coaches gave him shit for his tendency to trail off diets, who knows what his new coach will say to him.
“Hey, watch me.”
Jeno chews the inside of his cheek. Maybe the small sashimi plate is the best place to start?
“Hey. Watch me.”
Jeno glances up, expecting to see Chenle telling Daegal off for trying to hop onto the dining table again, but he’s met face to face with a massive piece of who knows what, slathered in spicy mayo and held up by chopsticks right in front of him. It’s probably the last out of the spread Jeno would’ve picked, and the longer he looks at it, the more he feels his arteries clogging up.
Chenle’s expression is stern as he waves the piece in front of Jeno. “Open,” he commands.
“You can’t be serious,” Jeno groans.
“Open.”
“We’re eating dinner!” Save it for later! Jeno tries to beam into his brain.
Chenle is unphased. “Open,” he says slowly, even slower than he speaks to Daegal.
Jeno huffs but does as told. Chenle grins triumphantly. “Take it.”
Praying his face isn’t nearly as red as it feels, Jeno inches forward and closes his mouth over the whole piece. It tastes like it has ten more ingredients than it needs in the best way possible, and he’s chewed and swallowed it seconds later, already looking around the table for another piece.
He doesn’t get to pick out a second one though, because Chenle coos so loudly, Daegal startles awake, as he lunges over the table to ruffle Jeno’s hair. “Good boy! I didn’t think you’d actually do it!”
“Just—just eat!”
“Point three-six-nine batting average, point four-zero-four on base percentage, point three-six-five slugging percentage,” Chenle reads, “Is that good?”
“Could be better,” Jeno replies immediately. He ended last season with four hundred in slugging, and he wonders if changing his routine made his percentage go down. He makes a mental note to ask the training coaches later. The other two stats are just inflated. “The season just started. Stats don’t mean anything when I’ve only played two games.”
It’s about nine in the morning, and Jeno’s driving to the clubhouse with Chenle in the passenger seat as they eat their breakfast takeout. Chenle’s already finished his latte, and he takes bites out of a croissant sandwich as he scrolls through his phone. In the back, Daegal snoozes, sprawled across the seats. One of Jeno’s playlists is humming through the speakers, a mix and match of EDM and Chenle’s songs on a shuffle, and the streets are blissfully traffic free. They don’t get these peaceful mornings to themselves very often, and Jeno’s glad he woke up early, even if it means having to practically drag a pouty, complaining, lethargic Chenle out of bed.
“This reporter seems to think it means something,” Chenle points out, mouth full. “So do all the people on every single SNS platform. Korean Doberman Kicks Off Another Season With Fire—MVP Candidate?”
Jeno rolls his eyes. “Tomorrow, they’ll be blasting me for running half a second too late.”
He takes his own bite of his burrito, careful as he pulls into his go-to clubhouse parking spot. After he turns off the car and unbuckles, he notices Chenle frowning at him. “What? Is there something on my face.”
Chenle reaches over to pinch Jeno’s cheek, pulling the skin right where his mole is. “You’re so quick to dismiss yourself, as if you aren’t the best thing to step out of Korea since Mark Lee and DBSK.”
Right. Mark Lee.
When they first started dating and Jeno was trying to get Chenle into the sport that ruled his entire life, he showed Chenle a variety of famous players, both active and retired, a combination of his idols and his friends. The moment Jeno let it slip that his old KBO teammate Mark played basketball as a hobby, Chenle declared Mark as his favourite player and kept up with Mark’s with the same attention he has for Jeno.
“Be more confident in yourself,” Chenle continues, snapping Jeno out of his thoughts, “If you were actually shit, I’d tell you as much.”
It’s a total lie, but Jeno doesn’t protest. He always ends up giving into Chenle anyway. Somehow, out of all the people on the planet, Jeno found the one person more stubborn than him. Chenle’s victory smile is cute enough to excuse him regardless.
“Can I take off your jewellery?” Chenle asks as Jeno finishes his burrito. “I always see you take them off on TV and I’ve always wanted to do it for you. I want to do your face thing too.”
“You—you watch the pregame interviews?” Jeno had always been under the assumption that Chenle turned off the TV within the first three at bats, or only tuned in to the last innings. The idea that Chenle has memorised his stupid rituals from clips that are broadcasted for less than five minutes makes his face heat him.
“I hope that’s a joke,” Chenle snorts, tugging Jeno towards him.
He starts with Jeno’s earrings, sliding the backs off with rough-skinned gentle fingers one by one, replacing them with simple studs, the necklace Chenle got him as an anniversary gift replaced by a simple red chord, both of which Jeno keeps in a box in the glove compartment. How on Earth Chenle knew the location of them is beyond him. The last thing to take off is his bracelet, a bunch of silly dog paw beats strung together, to match Chenle’s cat paw beads.
Chenle puts most of the jewellery back in the box, but he tucks the bracelet into his pocket and zips it shut to keep on him. He looks at Jeno with both hands raised. “Ready?”
Jeno inhales, then closes his eyes and nods.
SLAP.
Chenle claps both hands down on Jeno’s cheeks.
Immediately, the skin erupts in pain, and immediately, the sting breaks up the fog in Jeno’s head. Sharp and simple, he can already feel his vision focus faster, his thoughts moving quicker. He exhales, then squeezes Chenle’s hands in thanks.
“That was weird,” Chenle says first. “I don’t want to do that again. I’ll just take off your jewellery.”
Jeno laughs and shakes his head. “You asked.”
“Your face is red now!”
“It doesn’t actually hurt, baby.”
“Still!”
They get out so Chenle can take the driver’s side, and as Jeno’s taking his gear out of the trunk, he pauses to look at the ballpark. He’s slowly learning to accept it as his new home, but he’s never been the best with change. The roads to get here are different, the way the sun rises in relation to the diamond is different, even the air tastes different to an extent. The sudden sense of vertigo leaves him breathless, and the weight of his gym bag feels ten times heavier over his shoulder.
Like Chenle can read his mind, he kisses Jeno and slips a small plastic package into Jeno’s fingers. Jeno looks down—they’re gummy worms, the sour kinds he used to live off of during their college days. They’ve always had a bulk bag of mini packages in their pantry ever since they started living together.
“I’ll see you on the field tonight,” Chenle promises, drawing him into a quick hug. “Go kick ass for me.”
“Kick ass during warmups?”
“Do more pushups than Sungchan! It’ll piss Donghyuck off!”
“—first Chinese idol to top Billboard Hot 100, fresh off album promotions and already preparing for another international stadium tour—his fourth since his debut—one of the biggest international stars of our generation and beloved spouse to number twenty-three and first season with the Dreamers, catcher Jeno Lee, please welcome our ceremonial first pitcher, Chenle Zhong!”
Jeno whoops and applauds as he watches Chenle step onto the field with Daegal at his heels, waving to the cheering crowd around them. From the sheer number of posters, lightsticks, and plushies sticking out of the grandstand, Jeno can tell the portion of the crowd belonging to Chenle’s fanbase is big enough to contest fans of the Dreamers. Chenle waves to every section, glowing from the uproarious attention, shining the same way he does on stage. It’s not unlike being in the audience of his concerts, except this time, Jeno knows Chenle is here for him, on his turf, under his lights, in—
“Mark-hyung’s jersey?” Jeno blurts out incredulously. The 100 underneath the embroidered Lee stares back at him, mocking. “You’re wearing Mark-hyung’s jersey?!”
“I can’t believe I finally got to talk to him just now! Look, he even signed the front!” Chenle hits a pose, and Jeno can see Mark’s stupid little star signature scribbled right over the heart. “Does it look good on me?”
“I mean, yeah, but—” The sudden heat in Jeno’s stomach is definitely not a rational reaction, but he can’t force it down. What kind of boyfriend throws the ceremonial pitch for his boyfriend’s brand new team, while wearing the number of some other guy? Suddenly, all the jokes Chenle’s made about Mark being his favourite player, his first pick whenever he makes a new team in MLB The Show, are a lot less funny in retrospect. “Really?”
“I told you in the car he was my favourite, why would I lie to you? And look, Daegal is wearing yours!” Chenle scoops Daegal up to show off her number, Lee 23 right on her back. “Isn’t she so cute in her little shirt? Isn’t that right, baby? Oh, I know you hate me so much for making you wear it but you’re so cute—”
“Just throw it,” Jeno mutters.
“What was that, puppy? Are you jealous? Is puppy jealous?”
“Just throw already!”
Chenle cackles as he sets Daegal down, and begins to toss the baseball in his hands back and forth.
Jeno takes his spot behind home plate, crouching and flexing his fingers in his mitt, then watches Chenle spin the baseball on his index finger while fiddling around with one of Jeno’s old gloves in the other hand. Chenle’s always done a good job keeping up with his athleticism, and he’s far better at basketball than he should be as an idol, but Jeno wonders if it translates to the pitcher’s mound. The few times Jeno’s explained to Chenle the mechanics of throwing, usually when Chenle helps him warm up before driving to the field, they’ve always gotten—distracted, to say the least. The probability of Chenle retaining any of that information is pretty low.
Whatever. Jeno shakes his head to himself and focuses on Chenle, studies him as he raises his leg and draws up his arm behind him. It’s a baseball, not a grenade—there’s hardly any room for error. If he’s been pitching since he could stand on his two feet, he’s sure Chenle can figure it out. What’s the worst that can happen?
Chenle chucks the ball as hard as he can and it flies, soaring up and over and—
Thirty feet away.
Bouncing towards the dugout.
The first laugh forces its way out of Jeno like a punch.
Then the second.
Then the third and the fourth and pretty soon, he’s laughing so hard, he trips as he’s getting back to his feet. His stomach screams in agony from how hard he’s laughing, and the abs forming from his hysterics are surely more defined than any workout routine he’s ever tried. He has to take off his mitt for a second so he can wipe the tears away from his eyes, and he starts laughing harder when he notices Daegal is running off to fetch the ball from the dugout.
“Chenle—Chenle-yah,” he gasps as he goes over to the mound, “How did you—did you manage to do that?”
“Kill me,” Chenle groans, lying down and curling up to hide his face like a cat. Daegal runs over and starts licking Chenle’s hair, but Chenle still doesn’t look up. “Strike me off the face of the Earth. Wipe my existence from the internet. Tell Renjun he owes me thirty dollars.”
“Again, let’s do that again,” Jeno chuckles, shaking his shoulders. God, he’s so cute. Jeno thinks he wants to be with Chenle for the rest of time. “Look, the camera crew is giving us the O-K sign to pitch again.”
“No. Hyung, that’s the lowest fucking point of my career. Forget the voice crack at Jamsil, forget accidentally hitting my CEO’s face with a signed ball, this is it. Shoot me and end my misery.”
“You’re so dramatic.” Jeno kneels down to eye level with Chenle, pulling his hands away from his face so he can peer into Chenle’s eyes. Chenle’s expression is so helpless and so red, Jeno almost starts laughing again. “C’mon. Chenle, I love you, and because I love you, we’re going to do that again. I want you to do it again. I know you can do it again. Let’s do it one more time, yeah?”
It takes a lot of grumbling and a lot of sour looks, but eventually, Chenle stands up again, to another burst of cheers and shouts. It’s almost louder than before, and Chenle moves to duck behind Jeno, but Jeno grabs his arm to steady him again. “Here, watch me.”
He takes the ball out of an excited Daegal’s mouth and wipes it off on his pants, then holds it up for Chenle to see. “Two fingers here, thumb here. The spin will allow it to go faster and straighter. Remember, you’re throwing with your fingers, not your hand. Where your fingers point at release is the trajectory it will go, so don’t just swing your arm hoping for the best. Got it?”
Chenle nods meekly, and Jeno hands him the ball back with a quick squeeze of his hand. Instead of going back to home, Jeno stops halfway between and lifts his mitt up. “Try it from here.”
Though he stumbles a little on the followthrough, Chenle manages to throw the ball in a long arch towards Jeno, who catches it out of the air with ease. “There you go. Ready to do it again?”
Chenle nods, more confident this time around, and Jeno tosses him the ball, jogging back to home. He can see the uncertainty turning in Chenle’s head as he fiddles with his hold and chews his bottom lip.
He finally turns to face front with a steeled expression, taking in a deep breath.
Then Chenle throws—
And the ball sails, right into Jeno’s mitt, snug.
Strike.
The ballpark explodes, but louder than them all is Chenle himself, screaming in victory as he charges over towards Jeno and tackles him in a hug. Jeno buries his head in Chenle’s shoulder to hide his grin, and he can’t focus on a single word the announcers are saying, not when Chenle is the one picking him up this time, spinning him around in elation.
It’s so stupid, but when Jeno pulls back to see Chenle beaming at him like they’re the only two people in the world, Jeno ignores the sound of the umpire calling to start the game and presses their lips together into a searing kiss, heart already lighter than it is after a win.
There’s no way to describe playing with the Dreamers as anything other than fun.
Jeno loves baseball—loves the grit and the exhaustion, loves the way he can feel his body being pushed to the extremes behind the plate—but the difference between playing as Lee Jeno, the Korean Doberman, fighting to maintain his spot at the top of the leagues, and playing as Jeno Lee, 23, catcher, third in a batting order of friends he’s made coming through the posting system, makes a world of a difference.
In the five years it took for all four of them to reunite, watching their skills unfold on the field has adrenaline pumping through Jeno’s veins at the sheer potential the rest of their season has. At the top of the first inning, Sungchan crushes a leadoff home run with an exit velocity fast enough to decapitate someone, while Hendery practically climbs the outfield wall to snag a ball from granting a triple at the bottom. When Mark takes his spot on the mound as the starting pitcher, Jeno can feel the electric connection they make as he settles behind home—he catches strike after sizzling strike as the jumbotron boasts top speeds and strikeout records.
And from his position, Jeno can see bright and clear, the reason why today’s game matters more to them.
All the way in the back of the outfield, between second and third base, all of their partners are packed into the front row of the section. Chenle, Donghyuck, and Dejun keep flinging themselves over the railing in the front row section they share to screech loud enough to blow the stadium up. Energy is at an all time high, even enough to have Renjun and Jisung join in, despite the embarrassment on their faces. Even Jaemin breaks off from the camera crew to sit with them, using his own personal equipment for photos instead of his usual live broadcasts. Every time the news camera pans towards the box, all of their faces are intensely concentrated on the game, Chenle on the very edge of his seat.
In the second inning, Jeno drills the ball down the right field, an easy single that bats in the shortstop. In the third, an error from the opposing first baseman lets him jog onto second in the nick of time. In the fifth, he smashes the ball straight to the wall and dashes with every fibre of his body to slide into a triple.
They’re winning, and he’s playing.
However, the game starts to take a dangerous turn after Mark is relieved by their left-hander.
The SM Rockets refuse to let up, fighting back the Dreamers’ winning streak with a renewed aggression as they make connection after connection through the second half. Diving catches, double plays, and tags at home aren’t enough to stomp out the Rockets, who rack up enough runs to bring the game to a tie by the ninth.
The bottom of the ninth starts.
The order returns to the top.
Sungchan goes to the plate—
—and strikes out looking.
One out, tie game.
As Jeno pulls himself out of the dugout and plants his feet in the on-deck circle, his palms begin to sweat. He clenches his teeth. His heart thuds against his chest, faster and faster.
Hendery goes to the plate—
—and strikes out swinging.
Two out, tie game.
Everyone in the stadium is watching Jeno as he drags his feet to the home plate—everyone in the stadium can see his hands shake.
Everyone in the stadium is waiting on his swing.
The stadium lights are bright—blinding—and Jeno can barely see the mound, can barely feel the wooden weight in his hands, can barely think, can barely breathe—
And when he drags his hands down the bat to lift it up, his hand brushes around his wrist—and he breathes.
He does the motion again, encircling the part of his wrist where his bracelet usually sits, closing his eyes to imagine the weight of the beads against his skin.
Warm. Familiar.
Jeno exhales. Looks down the line, right at the pitcher.
He steadies his shoulders, bends his knees the slightest, and raises his bat.
Ten, nine, eight, seven—
On six, the ball flies towards him, straight down—sinker—
And Jeno swings.
CRACK!
Up, up, up.
In the second he registers the fact that he’s smashed the ball into the sky, he’s racing, sprinting towards first, second, third—
As he’s rounding third, towards the team scrambling out of the dugout in a mess of screaming and roaring, waiting to catch him at home, Jeno looks up—
And above him, Chenle is raising his arm above his head, glove around Jeno’s ball, wearing a smile bright enough to rival the sun.
Chenle is curled up in bed when Jeno comes out of the shower, eyes glued to the basketball game playing on TV. Because of course he’s watching basketball.
Jeno shuts the bathroom door, which has Chenle glancing over and letting out a low whistle as he raises his eyebrows. He sticks his arms out and makes little grabbing gestures with his hands, and Jeno is far too exhausted to be embarrassed by Chenle’s hungry look. Jeno lets Chenle tug him into his lap under the blanket, lets Chenle wrap his arms around his unclothed waist so he can rest his hands on Jeno’s abs, squeezing and feeling around the still damp muscle. Chenle rests his chin on Jeno’s shoulder and makes a few appreciative noises once he’s more or less groped every inch of his torso, the most ineffective massage ever.
Jeno pointedly ignores Chenle’s little session, focusing on the TV instead. “Are you winning?”
“Second in the conference,” Chenle declares proudly. Jeno thinks he knows what that means. “Curry’s off the IL today, which means the Nuggets won’t stand a chance next week.”
Jeno nods. “What time are you flying out tomorrow, by the way?”
Chenle groans. “Do we have to talk about work? If I think about dance practice, I might throw up.”
“I want to bike with you tomorrow morning,” Jeno murmurs, lacing his fingers with Chenle’s, “The team flies out in the afternoon, so I want to spend the last of the time I have with you.”
After a pause, Jeno wonders if he should’ve turned off the TV to ensure Chenle was paying attention, only for Chenle to break the silence with, “That was super cringey.”
Good grief. Jeno shoves Chenle off him but Chenle screeches and clings tighter, like some kind of cat with attachment issues. No amount of squirming and kicking gets Chenle to lay off, but Jeno keeps trying until finally, Chenle says, “Fine, fine, yes, biking whatever! If I pull my hamstrings again, I’m telling my manager it’s all your fault.”
“Couldn’t have behaved the first time?” Jeno grumbles.
Chenle ignores him. “You have to let me cook you whatever I want for breakfast. None of that gross protein fortified chicken stuff. Can we stop by HeyTea too? They’re doing a buy one get one promotion this week.”
Jeno hums, settling back into Chenle’s hold again. Across all of their apartments, every year of their relationship, from shitty twin bed to their now plush queen-sized, Jeno’s always been the most comfortable with Chenle wrapped around his back, like an oversized, toasty shoulder blanket. He grabs his phone from the bedside table, but can’t focus on any of the words on his screen when Chenle is so, so warm, and his arms are so, so secure.
Some time halfway through the last quarter of the basketball game—which has become total gibberish to Jeno’s ears, as he’s too busy listening to Chenle’s breathing and Daegal’s snoring a few feet away—Chenle speaks up again. “Second week of July.”
“Hmm?”
“I”m performing that weekend, in New York. The venue has a subway line that goes right to the entrance. I have your tickets set aside already.” Quieter, Chenle adds, “It’ll be the same weekend and city as the all-star game.”
The last three words have Jeno’s mouth drying up. It’s been three years in the majors now, and the story has been the same—high in the first phase, tanked in the second phase, never fully making the cut. “It’s not happening this year,” Jeno grunts.
“Yes, it will.”
“You have too much faith in me.”
“Jeno, look at me.”
Hesitant, Jeno turns around to look Chenle in the face, flinching when he sees the murderous light in Chenle’s eyes.
“You don’t have enough faith in yourself,” he accuses, jabbing a finger against Jeno’s bare chest. “How many years have we been together, hyung? How many times have I seen you miss the easiest hits in the world? How many times have you seen you lose entire games because you didn’t catch a pitch?”
Chenle doesn’t let Jeno talk, continuing his rant. “Hell, think about me for a second. Remember that time I could barely book a one-level theatre for a show, and half the seats were empty? You still showed up straight out of a game, all muddy and gross with a bouquet of the ugliest flowers I’ve ever seen, and they weren’t hypoallergenic. I sneezed during my encore because you were sitting in the front row! But you told me afterwards it was just the beginning, and here we are now.”
His voice quiets as he says, “I would’ve given up that night, you know? Called it quits and applied to university again, get a real degree and leave all this behind. The only reason I didn’t was because I took one look at you and realised I had to have at least one more show, one more just so you could show up in something clean and give me a kiss instead of fucking flowers. And you’re going to do that too. You’re going to play this stupid sport again and again and again until you make the all-star team and come to my concert in your ugly all-star uniform with your ugly all-star trophy so I can drag you on stage and tell everyone you’re mine.”
“That’s a threat, Jeno Lee. I’m threatening you with bodily harm if you don’t make it. Do well this season. Get into the all-star game again, so you can see me on stage, or else.” Chenle finishes with a long exhale and a glare.
Jeno stares at Chenle, at a total loss for words. Chenle has always been able to say so much, to spill his love in words and gifts and gestures for Jeno, when Jeno barely knows how to return the favour. “Chenle, I…”
I love you. I want to marry you someday. I love you. I want to raise a family with you someday. I love you.
“I—I thought you said you loved those flowers.”
“That’s what you focus on?” Chenle groans and yanks Jeno down for a kiss. When they pull apart, Jeno thinks he sees the sun in Chenle’s eyes. “I loved them because you gave them to me. I love everything you give me, even if they make my nose explode.”
I’ll give you the whole world someday.
“I’ll give you my all-star hat to wear on stage.”
Chenle laughs and kisses him again. In the kiss, Jeno can feel him smiling. In the kiss, Jeno can feel another start. “That’s what I’m talking about.”