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“Marry me.” Sawamura begs, mouth full of food, as Shinji slides the last chocolate chip pancake onto the other’s plate. If Sawamura were anyone else, he'd be disgusted by his lack of table manners, but he’s strangely endearing like this. Wearing Shinji’s clothes, sitting at Shinji’s dining table, eating the food Shinji made for the two of them.
In a poor effort to stifle his feelings of affection, Shinji just lets out a scoff before he licks the pad of his thumb and wipes away the smudge of melted chocolate at the corner of Sawamura’s mouth. “Don’t say things like that. It’s not nice.”
He’s always been like this, Shinji thinks. Carelessly saying everything that comes to mind, even when he doesn’t mean it. It’s one of the few things that Shinji wishes he could change about him.
Sawamura doesn’t speak again until he finishes the last of his pancakes and scrambled eggs. “Thanks Kanemaru.” he says, putting his dishes in the sink and walking towards the couch where Shinji had haphazardly tossed Sawamura’s jeans in his haste to take them off the night before.
Shinji averts his eyes as Sawamura pulls his pants over the pair of boxers he’d stolen from Shinji’s drawer. Even though he’s seen the other man dress and undress countless times before, it feels so much more intimate in the soft morning light that beams through the blinds that Shinji forgot to close last night.
Ignoring the obvious flush rising up Shinji’s neck, Sawamura walks towards the table and cups his jaw as he brushes his lips against Shinji’s cheek in a chaste kiss. “I’ll see you later.” he whispers, and then he’s out the door in a flash, almost knocking over the coat rack by the entrance in his rush to leave.
Shinji doesn’t think there will ever be a day where Sawamura doesn’t come and go in a whirlwind of chaos.
Just last night, Sawamura had started pounding on Shinji’s door before he even had the chance to take off his shoes and as soon as he’d let the man in, Sawamura had him pressed against the front door with not even a single chance to say “Hello.”
Shinji would like to say that that’s a rare occurrence for them. Unfortunately, he can’t.
It's been months since they started sleeping together and Sawamura has only gotten more needy as time has gone on, probably emboldened by Shinji’s constantly faltering facade of indifference.
The first time they had sex, it freaked Shinji out so bad that he took the next day off of work to pace around his apartment and intermittently scream into his pillow. Sawamura didn’t have to know that though, he had woken up to a stony faced, already dressed Shinji who quickly stormed out of the pitcher’s apartment as soon as he was able to tell that Sawamura wasn’t horribly hungover and could go to practice without getting yelled at by Miyuki.
The second and third and sixteenth and thirtieth time (Shinji definitely isn’t counting), the day after came a lot easier.
But that didn’t mean it hurt any less.
—
“You’re late.” Toujou says when Shinji finally shows up at the park for their usual Saturday morning run, his eyes roving across Shinji’s face before melodramatically widening when they land on the side of his neck. “And you have a hickey.”
“And you should shut the fuck up.” Shinji retorts lamely, bending down to touch the ground as he points the toe of his shoe towards the sky.
Toujou lets out a snort. “So when are you going to introduce me to your mystery man?”
Shinji closes his eyes and sighs deeply, straightening his back. They’ve had this conversation so many times before and his answer never changes. “I told you it’s just casual. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Shinji…” Toujou starts, a look of concern dawning over his features.
“What’s that face for?” Shinji sputters. He knows that Toujou can see right through him, he knows that the other man doesn’t like what Shinji is doing, but he refuses to fold until his best friend tells him exactly what he thinks.
A warm hand grabs Shinji’s shoulder, firm and unwavering. “It’s just that you’ve never done anything by halves when it comes to your feelings.” he says gently.
There’s truth in Toujou’s words, Shinji admits to himself. Whether it’s girls or boys or former teammates, Shinji has never been able to compartmentalize his feelings away from his relationships. Once he forms an ounce of affection for another person, he can't help but become more and more attached as time goes on.
His relationship with Sawamura is probably the most shining example of this. What started as passing admiration for the pitcher’s tenacity quickly evolved into a friendship that’s lasted from their first year of high school to adulthood. A friendship that's become so much more to Shinji than he ever could’ve imagined.
Unfortunately for Toujou, Shinji isn’t ready to say any of that out loud. Instead he shrugs off Toujou’s well-meaning hand and says, “Shut up. Let’s get started before the trail gets too crowded.”
“Shinji, wait.” Toujou says, grabbing Shinji by the bicep, refusing to let him run away from Toujou and this conversation. “I’m worried about you.”
“What is there to worry about?” Shinji asks, bewildered by his friend’s insistence on keeping this conversation going. He’s fine. He’s an adult. He can have casual sex and not be affected by it. It’s normal .
“There’s a sickness going around.”
Shinji narrows his eyes. “Like, an STD?” Toujou is a good friend, his closest friend, but they don’t really need to talk about Shinji’s sexual health right now in this public park.
“No you idiot, not an STD!” Toujou whisper-shouts, taking a whack at Shinji’s arm. “Like, my coworker, you know the one I told you about? With the huge crush on our boss?” Shinji nods slowly, not knowing where Toujou is going with this. “Well she started coughing up flower petals during a board meeting and had to go to the hospital. Apparently it’s called hanahaki and it can be deadly. It’s a disease of unrequited love.”
A disease caused by unrequited love sounds like something out of a fantasy book or one of those cheesy romance novels that Shinji pretends he doesn’t read. “So what happened to her?” he presses.
A grave look falls over Toujou’s face. “She had surgery to get rid of it.”
“And then?” Shinji’s brows furrow, confused by the sudden shift in tone.
“Her love for him went away.” Toujou says somberly.
Shinji gulps at his friend’s words. “Well I guess it can’t be helped.” he croaks, ignoring the knowing glance sent his way.
—
Sawamura is absolutely irresistible like this, Shinji thinks. Half naked, chest heaving, pillowed in his fancy five hundred thread count sheets with kiss bruised lips begging Shinji for more. His torso is painted with red splotches from Shinji’s mouth roaming over his skin, a result of too much teeth and too much desire. Shinji’s throat feels dry, he wants to devour him.
It only gets worse when Sawamura starts pawing at Shinji’s underwear staring up at him through his long long lashes. “Please Kanemaru. Please I need you.” he whines.
Shinji wanted to drag this out longer, to take Sawamura apart little by little until there was nothing left of him, to bring him to a bumbling mess of tears. His growing hardness says otherwise.
“You’re going to be the death of me.” he groans from where he’s hovering over the pitcher’s lap, refusing him the friction he desires.
Sawamura lets out another pitiful whine as he cants his hips upward, seeking the delicious heat of Shinji’s center. “Please.” he chants like a prayer, greedy hands scrambling for purchase.
Unable to tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him, Shinji lowers himself against Sawamura’s tented shorts in a slow grind. “Just this once” he thinks “I’ll give in to you.”
—
Shinji wakes up the next morning to an empty bed and a frigid chill that immediately has him searching for a clean set of clothes.
Once dressed, he follows the distinct sound of Sawamura putzing around to the kitchen. There, he finds the pitcher standing at the counter with his brows furrowed in concentration as he stares at his electric kettle.
“You do know that glaring at the thing won’t make it boil any faster?” Shinji drawls sarcastically, situating himself onto a nearby barstool.
Sawamura whirls around, seemingly startled by the interruption. “Hey!” he shouts, pointing an accusing finger right at Shinji “You ruined the surprise!”
Shinji quirks his brow. “Oh?”
“Yeah! I was going to bring you a cup of tea and let you drink it in bed. My mom would always bring me a warm cup on cold mornings like this.” He sounds so fond at the memory, like it’s something precious that he holds dear.
Imagining a young, pouting Sawamura bundled tightly under the covers, waiting for his mother to bring him a warm mug paints a sweet picture in Shinji’s head. He’s seen a few of Sawamura’s childhood photos and he can easily see why Sawamura grew up the way he did, spoiled with affection and loved beyond belief.
“You know I don’t drink tea.” Shinji can’t help but tease, ignoring the fluttering feeling that creeps up his chest. He’s always been more of a coffee drinker.
Sawamura lets out a sound of indignation. “But this tea is different! It’s my mom’s special blend straight from Nagano.” he says as he pours the tea into two mugs. “Try it!”
Shinji reaches for the mug in Sawamura’s outstretched hand and takes a slow sip. The tea is herbal and nutty with a familiar spice that gives Shinji a satisfying kick in the throat. He’s never had a cup like it. It’s soothing and warm in the best way possible.
Sawamura looks at him expectantly, smiling like he’s about to receive the praise he knows he deserves. Shinji can’t help but smile back. “It’s really good.”
“I told you!!” Sawamura preens at his accomplishment. “The ginger I added is antibacterial too, I thought it would help cause you kept clearing your throat and coughing last night.”
Shinji takes another sip. He hadn’t even noticed.
—
“Come watch me play this weekend.” Sawamura had pleaded when he shyly slid an envelope of tickets across the dinner table.
It was a surprising request, one he hadn’t made since Shinji graduated from university in the spring and started working full time. Shinji had hesitated, if only briefly, he almost forgot what it felt like to be personally invited to a game by Tokyo’s number one pitcher.
Sawamura had laughed raucously at Shinji’s reaction. “They’re really good seats. I promise.” he reassured him, beaming at Shinji’s acceptance.
That’s how Shinji ended up like this, sandwiched between Toujou and Yoshikawa, the three of them covered in merchandise from head to toe.
Shinji feels strangely anxious, being at a stadium for the first time since the end of last season. The crowds, the noise, the knowledge that he’s going to see Sawamura pitch again in real time. See how much he’s managed to grow without Shinji there. It makes him squirm in his seat. “He’s going to do great!” Yoshikawa shouts into Shinji’s ear, trying to comfort him. He can’t do anything but nod in agreement. That’s not what he’s worried about.
When Sawamura runs out onto the mound, he’s grinning that thousand-watt grin that blinds Shinji even from where he’s sitting in the stands. There’s a giddiness that settles into the air when he screams his catchphrase in front of tens of thousands of people, it’s almost electric.
The game is exhilarating to watch. Each and every pitch that Sawamura throws into Miyuki’s mitt is perfection. He’s never been more gorgeous than when he’s like this, Shinji thinks, determined and ready to take down any batter that stands at the plate.
“They really are a perfect match.” Toujou murmurs to Shinji when Sawamura throws an immaculate ninth inning that has the crowd on their feet, cheering to a deafening level of volume. It sends a tickle through Shinji’s throat that he desperately tries to ignore.
Watching Sawamura and Miyuki tap their gloves together in celebration somehow has him feeling even worse. Like his chest is on fire. Like he can’t breathe.
Shinji quickly stands up and shuffles past Toujou to get to the stairs and run towards the bathroom. He feels like he’s going to cough up a lung.
Sadly, he doesn’t make it to the bathroom, instead he stops in the middle of the walkway, furiously coughing into his hands. As he coughs, tiny blue petals make their way into his palms, fluttering from his gaping mouth. Oh no.
Shinji runs straight home afterwards, sending a lame excuse to the group chat to avoid going out for drinks like they had planned.
There’s no way he’s in love with Sawamura, he thinks. The same Sawamura who has never once shown Shinji any sign of attraction that wasn’t sexual. It must be the universe playing some sort of sick joke on him. Karmic retribution for all of his misdeeds.
Shinji laughs bitterly at the thought before he grips onto the sides of his wastebasket and coughs another stream of petals into it.
—
Toujou’s words from the other weekend keep following Shinji around. Taunting him. In the shower, on the train he takes to work, while he runs through the park.
Even right now, he’s supposed to be cooking dinner, but he can’t stop thinking about this stupid disease and Toujou’s poor poor coworker who almost died of unrequited love.
“Hey.” Sawamura murmurs, draping himself across Shinji’s back and nuzzling his nose against the sliver of skin behind his ear. “I can hear you thinking from the couch. What’s up?”
Shinji shrugs carefully, trying not to jostle Sawamura as he puts down the knife he’s been using to chop vegetables. “Work stuff.” he grumbles, “It’s not important.”
Sawamura lets out a petulant whine at the bland response. “You’re so boring.” he says as he leans more of his weight against Shinji’s body. He’s like a child sometimes. Easily bored, needing to be entertained constantly. Shinji doesn’t know if he’ll be able to capture his attention for much longer.
“Sorry not all of us can be professional baseball players. Some of us have to work normal office jobs.” Shinji drawls dryly.It doesn’t sting as much as it used to, thinking about throwing away his dreams to pursue something more stable and reasonable. But he still gets a little insecure when he thinks about just how ordinary he is in Sawamura’s shadow.
“Sorry. That wasn’t fair of me.” Sawamura apologizes, pressing his lips to the nape of Shinji’s neck in a feather-light kiss.
Shinji scoffs, a lame attempt to resist melting into the heat of Sawamura’s touch. “No. It wasn’t.”
The pitcher huffs out a laugh at Shinji’s response. Like he was expecting it. “I just thought that if you were too distracted to make dinner…” he starts, grabbing Shinji by the waist and turning him around so that the small of his back is pressed against the counter. “I could have something else.” The look on Sawamura’s face is practically sinful as he says those words and leers down at him. It’s a shame that Shinji knows better than to fall for it.
“You’re just trying to seduce me so I’ll ditch the curry and let you order the ramen you wanted.” he says, pushing at Sawamura’s shoulders, trying to get the other man off of him. “You liar.”
“You don't know that.” Sawamura grins at him as he traces his long long fingers down Shinji’s torso until he reaches the waistband of his sweatpants. “The only way to find out is to let me try.” he says, settling his knees onto the cold tiles of the kitchen floor.
Shinji rolls his eyes dramatically, feeling power rush to his head at the sight of Japan’s favorite pitcher on his knees, nosing at Shinji’s half hard cock through his ratty old sweatpants. He still doesn’t move.
Sawamura mewls pathetically at Shinji’s refusal to give in. “Please.” he whines, big brown eyes staring straight into Shinji’s soul as he tugs even harder at Shinji’s pants.
“You’re so fucking needy.” Shinji hisses back, overwhelmed by the sheer want that covers Sawamura’s face. Unwittingly, he thrusts his hips forward, giving Sawamura enough room to peel his pants down to his knees. But before Sawamura can get to his underwear, Shinji slaps his hand away.
Sawamura, greedy as ever, lets another whine escape his lips. “C’mon baby. I know you want it just as bad as I do.” he says, wanton and desperate, mouthing at the thin cotton that separates him from the thing he wants the most.
Fuck. He does. He wants to feel Sawamura’s tongue on his bare skin. He wants to fuck into Sawamura’s tight throat so deeply that he’ll feel it when he shouts his annoying catch phrases at his next game. He wants Sawamura to think of Shinji every time he tries to blow out his teammates eardrums. He wants to imprint himself into the very fiber of Sawamura’s being and let everyone know that he’s not theirs for the taking. He wants this so much.
“Fine we’ll see if you’re a liar or not.” Shinji croaks, letting Sawamura take off the remaining layer of fabric. He forgets what he was even worried about once he’s engulfed by the warm wet heat of Sawamura’s mouth
—
Shinji glares daggers at the stack of takeout containers sitting atop his waste bin as he sits next to Sawamura on the couch. “You need to stop sucking my dick every time you don’t want to eat what I’m making.” he grumbles while the pitcher chows down on his second bowl of post-dinner cereal.
The shit-eating grin on Sawamura’s face only grows. “It’s not my fault you’re a pushover!” he laughs hoarsely.
“I try to do something nice for you and this is how you treat me?” Shinji groans. The nerve of this guy! Shinji just wanted them to have a nice nutritious home cooked meal and Sawamura had the temerity to let it all go to waste.
Sawamura, never one to let the opportunity for an fight pass him by, slams his bowl of cereal down onto the coffee table. “Hey, I did something nice for you! I sucked your dick!” he protests. “And I made you tea!”
“I don’t even like tea!” Shinji shouts back, just for the sake of keeping the argument going. They both know that he’s grown very fond of Sawamura’s mother’s tea.
Sawamura inhales deeply, clearly ready to win this whole thing in one breath. “I don’t care if you like it! I made it for you and you’re going to drink it all even if I have to force it down your throat. It’s supposed to help that nasty cough of yours. By the way, I told you to go to the doc-” Unfortunately for Sawamura, his tirade ends abruptly when Shinji pulls him in for a deep kiss.
Shinji doesn’t want to think about his coughing right now. Anyways, it’s probably for the best that they keep Sawamura’s talking to a minimum for a while.
—
Sadly though, kisses can’t shut Sawamura up forever and the nagging only gets worse from there.
He’s constantly touching his forehead to Shinji’s own, trying to gauge if he has a fever and asking him if he feels sick at the slightest attempt to clear his throat. And even though Shinji repeatedly tries to tell Sawamura that his coughing fits are just from a bad case of seasonal allergies and can’t be helped, Sawamura insists on the effectiveness of his family’s herbal remedies.
Every morning that they wake up together, he starts the day by making a large thermos full of tea for Shinji to sip on and every day that they’re apart, he texts Shinji a reminder to drink his daily dose. ‘Please. For me?’ he always says when Shinji tells him to focus on his job instead of Shinji’s tea intake.
There’s a part of Shinji that thinks that all of this is going to hurt him more in the long run. That this is the closest that he’ll ever get to Sawamura loving him back.
It makes Shinji feel sorry for himself, knowing that these fleeting moments are all he has. From his research he knows that the coughing is only going to get worse as the disease progresses into its later stages. The petals will grow into flowers and their roots will suffocate him until he can’t breathe anymore. He doesn’t know what he’ll do about Sawamura’s worrying then.
—
“Did you know some tabloid called Sawamura Japan’s most eligible bachelor?” Toujou shouts over Shinji’s lap, getting Kominato’s attention. They’re crowded in a booth at their favorite sports bar, nearly stacked on top of each other with Furuya on Kominato’s other side.
The question makes Shinji choke back a cough.
“No! Really?” Kominato shouts back, “You’d think they’d know that he’s too busy chasing a certain catcher to even think about dating!”
Kominato’s words send a chuckle through their friends and force a lump of petals to climb up Shinji’s throat. He can feel their edges scraping down the sides of his esophagus as he swallows them back down. A cruel punishment for thinking he could get through a night out with his friends. “I have to go to the bathroom.” he says quickly, trying to choke down a series of even more coughs.
When he gets to the bathroom, Shinji braces himself against the counter, leans over the bowl of the sink, and heaves. The lump in his throat has only grown since he got up from the table. He coughs and coughs and coughs, trying to expel the flower petals scratching at the sides of his esophagus.
Finally, after what feels like a lifetime of choking, it shoots out of his mouth, a bundle of blue, wet with spit and blood. Tiny flowers with little yellow centers.
“Shinji!” Toujou shouts, opening the bathroom door with a slam . “Are you okay?”
The concern in Toujou’s voice makes tears spring in Shinji’s eyes as he stares at the little blue flowers. “No.” he croaks as bile threatens to creep up his throat once again, “I’m not.”
Toujou quickly glances into the sink before he wraps a comforting arm around Shinji’s shoulders. “How long has this been going on?” he asks gently,
Shinji lets out a sob at the tenderness in his friend’s touch. “Since we went to go see that game with Yoshikawa.”
“That long?” Toujou gasps, enveloping him into a tight hug.
Shinji can’t help but let his tears fall onto Toujou’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“Let’s go get you some water.” he whispers into Shinji’s ear, “Then I’ll take you home.”
—
Stupid . That’s how Shinji feels sitting on his couch wrapped in his best friend’s arms. He’s so stupid for thinking he could live this way without any consequences. Toujou was right, Shinji has never done things by halves and it was foolish to think otherwise.
It doesn’t help that Shinji has always always had a soft spot for Sawamura. Since the beginning, he’s been bending over backwards to keep the pitcher in his orbit. From helping him practice to being his long suffering tutor to agreeing to keep sleeping together with no strings attached. Indifference was not a feeling he was familiar with when it came to Sawamura Eijun.
Toujou rubs soothing circles into Shinji’s skin, a dull comfort for the shame he feels. “Hey, this isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have anticipated this.” he whispers.
The words force Shinji to choke out another sob. Toujou is too good to him. Here he is letting Shinji pathetically cry into his shirt over his silly little unrequited love when he was the one who warned Shinji to be careful in the first place.
“But it is my fault!” he cries, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I went and slept with Sawamura and-” he claps a hand over his mouth. He didn’t mean to reveal that. The precious secret he’s been holding in for the past few months.
Toujou looks at him with eyes as big as dinner plates, shocked at the revelation. “Oh Shinji…”
Shinji cries even harder at that. Now that Toujou knows the truth he probably thinks that Shinji is even more of a fool than he did before. White hot shame creeps up into his throat, forming a tight lump. Shinji pushes Toujou off of him and leans over the edge of the couch to cough some more into the wastebasket that Toujou had brought over.
As the bile and blood and flowers make their way up Shinji’s esophagus, he feels Toujou’s palm rubbing across his back in gentle motions. It’s a small but welcome comfort.
Toujou waits for Shinji to catch his breath before he grabs a wad of tissues from the coffee table and uses them to wipe Shinji’s mouth. He touches Shinji like he’s something delicate like he’s worried that Shinji will break.
“I didn’t mean to fall in love with him.” Shinji croaks, feeling the cool, soothing pads of his best friend’s thumbs wiping away his tears.
“It’ll be ok.” Toujou says, bringing Shinji to his chest in a tight hug. “I promise.”
That night, Shinji cries himself to sleep while Toujou whispers comforting words of reassurance into his ear.
—
When Shinji wakes up in the morning, it’s to a crick in his neck and a steaming cup of tea on the coffee table in front of him. The familiar scent immediately has him bent over and coughing into his wastebasket. He doesn’t have to look to know that the bundles of flowers have grown since last night.
“What are you doing here?” Shinji croaks, glaring daggers at Sawamura’s slippered feet. “You’re supposed to be in Yokohama right now.”
Sawamura kneels down in front of the couch and wraps his hands around Shinji’s, gently unfurling them from their tight grasp on the bin. “Toujou called me.” he says slowly, pausing between each word. “He said it was an emergency.”
Once again, Shinji feels the white hot tears creep up in his eyes. Sawamura shouldn’t have to deal with this. Shinji’s burdens aren’t his to bear. “This has nothing to do with you.” He spits out.
“Then who is it?” Sawamura asks as he nudges Shinji’s chin upwards, forcing their eyes to meet. “Who made you this heartsick?” His eyes are so bright they look almost golden under the morning sun. Bile rises in Shinji’s throat once more.
Shinji takes in a big gulp of air, once, twice, trying to keep the flowers down. Sawamura waits patiently, holding Shinji’s hand in his own. “As if there’s ever been anyone but you.” Shinji says bitterly once he’s found his bearings.
The confession sounds wrong in his ears. He never wanted to say that out loud. To put the onus of his unrequited affections directly on Sawamura’s shoulders. It feels wrong and predatory, like he’s trying to force Sawamura to love him back.
Sawamura blinks rapidly, his eyes becoming wet with tears. Shinji has seen him cry so many times before, but never because of something Shinji has said to him. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. One full of regret and self-hatred.
“Don’t cry.” Shinji pleads, removing his hands from Sawamura’s grasp and using them to cover his face. “It’ll break my heart even more if you start crying.”
Sawamura lets out a soft chuckle at Shinji’s poor attempt at a joke. “These are happy tears.” His voice sounds wet as he says it, prying Shinji’s hands apart. “God. I’ve liked you for so long.”
He sounds so honest when he says it. Like he’s been holding it in just as much as Shinji has. Sawamura smiles gently at Shinji, fond and affectionate. Like he’s been given a gift.
The sheer earnesty spread across his face has Shinji choking into the basket once more. He heaves and heaves, cluster after cluster, blue smattered with splotches of his blood. Sawamura doesn’t budge. Instead he rubs tight circles in between Shinji’s shoulder blades, telling him to let it all out.
Once he finishes, Sawamura hands him his cup of tea which Shinji gulps down greedily. It’s lukewarm and sweetened with honey, a welcome addition that soothes his battered throat.
For the first time in weeks, Shinji exhales without struggling. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” he asks, once he collects his thoughts. The question rushes out with the last breath of illness.
“I don’t know.” Sawamura shrugs. “You seemed to like the way things were and I didn’t want to change that.”
Shinji laughs at Sawamura’s words. He didn’t think it could’ve been something that simple “Well I didn’t.” he says thickly.
Sawamura grins up at Shinji brightly. That thousand watt smile that he loves so much. “I really want to kiss you right now.” He says it so plainly that it makes Shinji feel a bit giddy. Sawamura wants him. He knows that Shinji loves him and he still wants him.
Shinji surges forward cupping Sawamura’s face in his hands and kisses him, letting all of his weeks of pent up affection rush through him. The kiss tastes like tea, tannic and herbal with a tinge of sweetness.