Ookiku Furikabutte, "Physical Therapy, part ii," Abe/Mihashi, R
Second part of my challenge to myself to re-write "Physical," which is told from Abe's POV, in Mihashi's POV. This section gave me fits up one side and down the other, mostly because it's the longest section and I'm forever second-guessing my characterization of Mihashi.
I think it boils down to this: Mihashi's a complete mystery to me. He's a complete mystery to Abe, too, and that explains why writing Abe is easier for me. Neither of us can figure out what makes his pitcher tick.
You can find the original story here: part i • part ii • part iii
And the Mihashi-POV sequel here: part i • part ii • part iii
Physical Therapy
part ii
by mistr3ss Quickly
Sunday comes way too soon.
Mihashi doesn't sleep well, Saturday night. He's groggy when he drags himself out of bed, Sunday morning, to eat the breakfast his mom's called him downstairs for three times already. Stubs his toe on the doorjamb on his way out of the bathroom, which hurts. Kind of makes him want to cry.
His mom doesn't help with that, sitting down across from him at the table the minute he's sat down and started stuffing his face with toast. Her hand's warm when she wraps it around his, probably from the cup of coffee she brought over to the table. Soft like maybe she's been washing dishes or something.
Doesn't matter.
His mom says: "We need to talk, Ren."
That's what matters. Ties his stomach in a knot, hard enough that his toast tries to come back up his throat.
It doesn't manage to come up, but it tries pretty hard, the bit he hadn't managed to eat yet tasting of ash when his mom reminds him to eat his breakfast while she talks. She tells him how proud of him she is. How excited both she and his dad are that he'll be pitching at Koushien. How proud they are that he's part of a team that qualified for the most prestigious high school baseball game in Japan.
How she really won't hear any of his excuses for not pitching for his team, just because he's scared of doctors.
"I'm going to make the appointment this afternoon," she says. "Your father wanted to keep it a secret, but I don't think you need to be tricked into anything. It's the right thing to do, for you and for your team. You know that. And you're strong enough to do what needs to be done. Aren't you?"
He isn't. Maybe. Wasn't strong enough to pitch against Mihoshi in a practice game, back when he was a first year at Nishiura. Wasn't strong enough to stand up to Abe after Abe's injury, to tell him he wanted to shake his head sometimes without Abe telling him to, first.
Did all of those things anyway.
So he nods his head and tells his mom he'll go, tells her he wants eyeball hamburgers for dinner afterwards because eyeball hamburgers make everything better, always have. Tells his mom he has to go now because he's supposed to go study with Abe, tells her he loves her back when she ruffles his hair and tells him again that she's proud of him.
He goes upstairs to his room as soon as his plate's cleaned. Loads up his bag with every textbook he can think to take with him to Abe's house, just in case this is the last time Abe's going to want to help him study.
Which it won't be if he tells Abe that he's going to have the physical done, he's pretty sure, but the thought of telling Abe-of saying out loud that he's going to the doctor-makes him freeze up, even in the privacy of his own bedroom where he's just telling his own reflection, saying it softly under his breath and everything. Makes him seriously rethink his promise to his mom that he'll go to the doctor, which is no good so he swallows hard and tells his reflection that he's not going, that he'll tell Abe he's sorry because he can't go.
Lying to himself is easier than lying to Abe. Pretty convincing, too.
Which makes him feel kind of guilty and kind of sad and completely awful, his stomach right back in knots by the time he's biked to his catcher's house and knocked on the door.
Abe's right there at the door, opens as soon as Mihashi's knocked. Probably waiting for him. He invites Mihashi in, invites him upstairs. Doesn't seem all that upset with him, talking casually about how it's warm outside, about how his brother's got a match that afternoon. About how his parents are there, watching the kid play. Probably sweltering already.
"I wanted to talk to you about something," he says, sitting down close enough that Mihashi can see the faint lines between his catcher's eyebrows, remnants of the frown that isn't too serious yet, barely there at all. Abe's happy-face. Kind of. "About doctors. Why you don't like them."
Not about studying, then. Not about Mihashi's (dismal) grades. Not about the tests they've got coming up in all subjects.
Which means Abe didn't actually invite him over to study. Not surprising.
"I'm not mad at you," Abe says, when Mihashi tries to tell him he's sorry, just like he told his reflection in the mirror at home. "I just want to know what happened. With your last doctor."
Stuff that probably wouldn't bother other people. Normal people. Stuff that probably wouldn't even happen to normal people. Probably never happens to Abe.
"N-nothing?" he says. Not really expecting Abe to buy it, but.
But Abe doesn't yell at him. He takes a deep breath through his nose. A steadying technique he uses just for Mihashi. Because Mihashi is strange. A bother.
"The last time you went to the doctor," he says, "what was it for?"
"S-shots," Mihashi says.
"Vaccinations?" Abe says.
Mihashi nods. Waits. Abe's watching him. Waiting.
Doesn't have to wait long.
"And stuff," Mihashi says, because not telling Abe the whole truth is just as hard as lying to Abe, Abe's unblinking stare and brow creased with worry Mihashi's caused him weighing on Mihashi like a physical presence. "My weight. Because I wasn't eating."
Couldn't eat, most days. Not in the classroom where there was no one to sit with him while he ate. Not up on the roof where his teammates went for lunch when the weather was nice. Not even in the bathroom, not after Mr. Suzuki found him there and told him he'd get sick, eating around bathroom germs.
"How old were you?"
Too old for being so shy about everything, the doctor said. Old enough to take control of his own life and make some friends, come out of his shell. To speak up and not stutter and not look at his mom for support when he was nervous because that's childish and annoying, probably explains why he didn't have any friends.
Until Abe. Abe who sat with him and talked strategy with him and told him he was amazing on the mound. Abe who didn't care that he was strange and tiresome and a bother, who reminded him to eat and to drink water and to mind his wrists and fingers. Abe who helped him study and lay next to him to make sure he slept during summer camp. Abe who sent him emails, who kept sending him emails, even when Mihashi was shy and didn't answer the first dozen mails he got.
"Twelve," he says.
"What was the worst part of the visit?"
Like wanting to know the best part of pitching for Nishiura. Hard to pin down.
Mihashi swallows.
"I was doing bad," he says. It's not exactly what Abe asked, but Abe will ask again if he needs to. "The doctor said so. That I was too skinny. And I'd have to stop pitching. If I didn't gain weight."
"Did the doctor scold you?"
Yes. No. Kind of.
"He asked a lot of questions," Mihashi says. "I didn't answer right, so he got mad at me. H-he wanted me to go to another doctor. Because I was shy. He said that was bad."
Abe's glare deepens. "You know that's not how doctors are supposed to act, right?" he says. "They're supposed to take care of people, not get mad at them."
He looks upset. Angry.
Because of Mihashi.
"I'm a b-bother," Mihashi says. It feels oddly like shaking his head at his catcher. But it's important. Abe needs to know. So he won't be upset anymore. "He tried. To take care of me. But he couldn't. Because I'm strange."
Abe clears his throat. He's frowning less. "You've changed a lot since then," he says.
"I have?"
A nod. "You're seventeen, not twelve," Abe says. "You're the ace of a Koushien-qualified team. And you've been maintaining your weight since you were a freshman. Put on some good muscle. You're the picture of health. No one's going to scold you."
Mihashi doesn't say anything, embarrassed pleasure curling up from his stomach, making him feel warm all over like he did the day Nishiura faced Mihoshi with him pitching, faced Mihoshi's best and won. Makes him feel like he did the day Abe smiled at him the first time and held his hand and told him he could stand on the mound and pitch to his heart's content. That he'd be there and give him signals and catch for him, no matter how slowly he pitched.
Abe sighs. Probably annoyed that Mihashi hasn't said anything, but Mihashi can't think of anything to say, usually can't when his catcher's sitting so close, looking at him so intently.
"Look," Abe says, "I'm certain no one's going to get mad at you. But if it'll make you feel better, I can check you. Now. Make sure there's nothing wrong. If you want." A moment. Too short for Mihashi's brain to sort out the thank you-thank you-thank you from the yes-yes-please, leaving him mute. "I'm planning to go to medical school after we graduate from Nishiura. I've started researching general medical practice to prepare for that, so I know what I'm doing."
Which is just-just. Too much. Too cool.
Abe lifts an eyebrow at him when Mihashi manages to open his mouth but doesn't quite get any words-or sounds, for that matter-to come out.
He says: "What?"
Mihashi untangles his tongue well enough to say: "You're going to become a doctor?"
"Yeah?"
So. Cool.
"It is?" Abe says.
Which means Mihashi managed to get a thought out in words. A small victory.
He nods. Watches Abe's cheeks pink up. Which is another victory. Kind of. A different victory. But still a victory.
"Then let me give you a preliminary diagnostic physical," Abe says. "Please. To help me practice."
Mihashi's stomach does a flip. A good flip. He's known Abe for three years. Never once in those three years has Abe asked him for anything. Never once has he come up with something he could do for Abe, other than do what Abe tells him to do and try not to make him angry. But those don't count, not at all. Not like this would. Will.
"Okay," he says, fast before something goes wrong and Abe changes his mind. "If it'll help you."
Like Abe's helped him. Well. Not that much, because Abe's helped him a lot. But.
He stands when Abe stands, does his best not to fidget while Abe digs around in one of his dresser drawers, because fidgeting irritates Abe, makes him mad. Doesn't have much luck but it's okay because Abe turns around and hands him a hospital gown which gives his hands something to do other than fidget.
"Here," Abe says. "Put this on."
The doctor who didn't want Mihashi to pitch for Mihoshi made him put on a hospital gown, too. It was too baggy, made him feel even more naked than he already felt. Didn't close right in the back, either, which meant his butt was bare on the paper covering the exam table, which was weird and got weirder because he got sweaty and wrinkled the paper, which meant there was a print in the shape of his butt when he stood up, and there were nurses-nurses-there who probably saw the print and knew that he'd been sitting on the exam table without his boxers on, and that was weird, made him feel gross and bad and wrong when he thought about the nurses later, thought about them like that and touched himself and came a few times because they were kind of pretty and he was upset and touching himself made him feel better.
He still feels bad about thinking about nurses when he touches himself. Does it anyway. More than he probably should.
"Do I have to?" he says to Abe, without thinking. Regrets it immediately. Wishes, for the billionth time that week alone, that he could grab the words and stuff them back in his mouth where they belong.
But Abe doesn't get mad at him because Abe's going to be a doctor, a good doctor.
"Yes," is all he says. "Go on."
"Here?" Mihashi says. Just to be sure.
"We change together all the time in the clubhouse and at camp," Abe says. "This isn't any different."
Which is True but doesn't really Help. Mihashi wasn't really expecting it to.
He takes off his shirt and jeans, folds them neatly because Abe's always really neat, his room always impeccable when they study together. He turns to face his catcher, to ask for permission to leave his clothes on Abe's desk, but the words die in his mouth when he catches sight of Abe standing there so close to him in nothing but his briefs, nothing but his briefs.
He looks good. Lean. Muscular. Strong. His chest's got more hair on it than it did the summer before when they took a bath together at camp. His belly, too. Hair that goes down past the waistband of his briefs. Down to the place where his briefs bulge out a little.
"Why are you-" A stupid question; he's reaching for a pair of pants. Pants like doctors wear on the afternoon dramas Mihashi's mom watches. "Oh. I didn't think you'd-not like a real doctor."
A real doctor wearing Abe's face, the familiar frown and messy hair and dark eyes. Not as scary as Mihashi had expected. Not as weird. Natural. Like Abe was born to be a doctor or something.
Which is. Just. Too cool.
Just as cool as watching Abe suit up, pulling on the pants and shirt and draping a stethoscope around his neck, all smooth motion and coordination, not too fast or too slow, just-just right. Comfortable. Easy.
Glaring when he looks at Mihashi-at the hospital gown in Mihashi's hands-and sees that Mihashi hasn't done anything since turning around. Looking annoyed when he takes a step towards Mihashi, Mihashi's brain tangling up on itself when it should instead be telling his muscles to move, to get him into that gown before Abe gets mad and changes his mind about practicing with him.
But Abe doesn't get mad. He says, "It's just me," and takes the gown from Mihashi, shakes it out so that it's not all stiff and folded. Says: "Relax. You know I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to yell at you, either."
Which is no different from playing ball with him. Mihashi nods and takes the gown from his catcher. Puts his arms through the arm-holes, just like Abe wanted him to.
Only-
"I can't tie it," he says, because Abe told him years ago to speak up when something's wrong.
"Then turn around," Abe says. "I'll do it for you."
Which means Abe touching him, something Mihashi's always interested in, Abe's fingers warm where they're bumping against Mihashi's back, but-
"What if I can't tie it when I'm at the doctor's office?" Mihashi says. Because he couldn't, last time. Got in trouble because of it, had to have his mom come in and help him out because he got tongue-tied and couldn't tell the nurse that he was okay to do it, that he just needed a few minutes to work it out.
"Put it on backwards, tie it, then turn it around the right way after it's tied," Abe says, after a few seconds, just long enough for him to figure out a solution. "Do you want to try that?"
Mihashi nods. Waits patiently while his catcher gets him untied. Turns the gown. Does his best to tie it through the back-slit.
It works about as well for him as it did when he tried it five years earlier at the doctor's office.
Doesn't work at all.
"You can put your arms through the arm-holes to get it tied," Abe says.
He doesn't even sound impatient.
And he's right, almost always is about everything because he's smart and he cares, more than anyone other than Mihashi's mom and dad ever has. Nods once when Mihashi looks up at him, gown properly tied and turned around so that the ties go down the back, cool air from the air conditioner seeping in to raise goosebumps down Mihashi's spine.
"Good," Abe says. "Now take off your boxers and we'll get started."
Mihashi's heart sinks. He'd been hoping to get to skip that part.
"Take off my-"
"You don't keep them on during an exam," Abe tells him. Reminds him.
"B-but-"
"The gown covers you. You're fine. It's just the way things are done."
Which is True, but. But.
Mihashi hesitates. Weighs the options. Decides that doing what Abe's telling him to do is probably best. Always has been, before. Even when it meant pitching pitches the other team was expecting. Pitches the other team could hit. It would've been okay if Mihashi had pitched faster. If he'd been stronger.
So he drops his gaze and struggles out of his boxers, leaves them folded on top of his clothes, folded neatly on Abe's desk. He feels naked, completely naked, when he turns and faces Abe, but Abe's not looking at him funny so it's not as bad as he's expecting.
"You'll be alone when you do this at the clinic," Abe says. "When you're done, a nurse will come in and check your vitals. We'll do that next. Come sit down over here."
Patting the foot of his bed with his hand. Mihashi swallows and tries not to think too hard about it. About what it means to be on another person's bed. Naked.
Well.
Mostly naked.
The bedspread's soft. Moves nicely under his hands when he puts them down and wiggles experimentally. Doesn't leave any creases or wrinkles, which means Abe won't know where his butt's been. Which doesn't matter as much as it did when it was the nurses because he's got his butt covered this time, he can feel the cotton of the hospital gown under his skin, but. Still.
He tries to tell Abe that. Doesn't do a very good job.
"What is?" Abe says, frowning like he does when Mihashi's said something weird, even though all Mihashi's said is "Better."
He looks good, dressed like a doctor. Really good. Better than the real doctor did because Abe-kun is Abe-kun, and that makes him better than just about anyone.
Which makes it easier to tell him why the bed's better, makes the panic in his chest less severe than he'd've expected it to be when Abe tells him that the bed at the clinic will probably have paper on it, won't be soft and comfy like his bed.
"I'm going to take your temperature first," Abe says. "Then your blood pressure. Okay?"
Mihashi nods. Opens his mouth obediently for the thermometer, watches Abe untangle the blood-pressure cuff while he waits for the thermometer to beep. It's not scary at all. Nothing like actually going to the doctor. Nothing like it usually is, spending time with Abe, either.
It's nice. Not that spending time with Abe isn't nice, normally. But.
Abe measures his blood pressure while they wait for the thermometer to beep. Writes the results of each in his notebook.
"Blood pressure and temperature are both normal," he says. "I'll need to check your pulse next. Give me your hand."
Easily the best order he's given. Mihashi offers his hand. Watches his catcher move him, turning his hand, pressing two fingers against wrist. Abe's hand is strong. Calloused. Warm. Feels just as good as it does when Mihashi's nervous in class and imagines it wrapped around his own.
Better than that.
Really, really good.
"Pulse is fine," Abe says, letting go of Mihashi's hand far too soon. "We'll check your ENT next. Ears, nose, throat. Open your mouth and say 'ahh.'"
Mihashi obeys. Realizes, when Abe hesitates and frowns at him, that he hasn't brushed his teeth since right after breakfast. Pulls his tongue back into his mouth so that he can apologize when Abe says:
"You're not allergic to latex, are you?"
Not at all what Mihashi's expecting. His brain snags on itself. Freezes right up.
"Mihashi," Abe says. He's pulling on a pair of gloves. Blue rubber gloves. Just like the gloves the teacher handed out in biology class the last time they were doing dissections. Mihashi liked that lesson. Picking things apart, seeing how they went together. Organs all working together like players on the same team. Coming apart only after the game was over. When it was okay to not be together anymore.
"Mihashi. Latex allergy?"
Mihashi stops staring at his catcher's hands. "I don't-I don't know?"
Probably not. Unless the gloves in biology weren't latex. Then maybe.
But it doesn't matter because Abe says: "It's all right, I got non-latex gloves. Just you should tell them that you're allergic if you are so they can wear non-latex gloves when they work with you." He cocks his head to the side. Fixes Mihashi with that look, the one that makes Mihashi feel like he's the only thing his catcher is seeing.
Mihashi loves that look.
"The last time you went to the doctor," Abe says, "did you itch at all afterwards?"
Mihashi tries to remember. It's not easy. He's spent the past five years doing his best to not remember.
"Where I had blood drawn," he says, after a moment. "From the Band-aid."
"Well, to be safe, tell them you'd prefer non-latex gloves," Abe says. "They'll have them, so you don't have to worry about being a bother. It's okay to tell them stuff like that. They'd like that better than if you just keep quiet and have a bad reaction."
He's still messing with his gloves. They aren't going on as easily as the gloves he wears when he's at bat. Don't look as good on his hands as his batting gloves do.
"Open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and say 'aah,'" he says, picking up a tongue depressor. It tastes like wood, kind of dull and a little bitter. Tickles at the back of Mihashi's tongue, badly enough that he gags, which makes Abe apologize, earns Mihashi a frown when he tries to tell him that he didn't do anything wrong.
"Right," Abe says. "Well. Anyway. The doctor will check your ears and nose after this. I don't have any of the equipment to do that, but it doesn't hurt so you don't need to worry about it. Okay? They'll just look in your ears and nose. Make sure you're okay."
Mihashi knows about that part. Didn't hate it when he went to the doctor when he was little because his doctor back then was really nice and told him he was looking in Mihashi's ears for elephants, because he'd heard a rumor that all of the elephants in the zoo sneaked out in the middle of the night and the authorities were pretty sure the whole herd had found a nice little boy who felt sorry for them and said they could hide in his ears.
He tries to tell Abe that. Manages only to get the word "elephants" out, but it's good enough. Gets Abe to stop and look at him, waiting long enough for Mihashi to tell him what he meant. Kind of. Gets him to almost kind of smile, maybe, when he says that his doctor said the same thing when he was little.
Mihashi tries to imagine what Abe might've been like as a little boy. Doesn't have much luck.
He sits up straight when he sees Abe reach for the stethoscope draped around his neck, takes deep, slow breaths because that's what the school nurse always wants him to do when she comes at him with the stethoscope. It's nice, makes him think of meditation on the field before practice, and it never hurts, never gets him in trouble. Gets him an approving look from Abe, too, Abe's fingers touching his back, almost tickling him.
"Sorry," Abe says. "It's cold. Bear with it for me."
"It's not," Mihashi says. "It t-tickles. A little."
Abe doesn't say anything. He listens to Mihashi breathe longer than the school nurse usually listens, but his fingers are touching Mihashi's back, warm even through the rubber gloves, so Mihashi doesn't mind. Misses them a little, even, when Abe steps back, straightening.
"Breathing is fine," he says. "The doctor might want to test your lung capacity, too. He'll have you blow into a tube attached to a box. It's not a bad thing. Probably just curiosity about how much your lungs can hold. Okay?"
Mihashi nods. "Like a breathalyzer test," he says.
Abe raises an eyebrow at him. "How do you-"
He doesn't need to know about Mihashi's dad's stories of getting pulled over for DUI on the bicycle he'd stolen from his younger sister, back in the days when he was "young and stupid," so Mihashi shrugs and doesn't look his catcher in the eye and says: "I read about it. Once."
Which seems to be enough for his catcher, Abe dropping the subject in favor of testing Mihashi's reflexes, his hand warm against Mihashi's leg where it's holding the gown out of the way.
He's frowning when he looks at Mihashi again, even though Mihashi's reflexes worked exactly like they were supposed to. He says: "All right. That's the general physical. Next he'll want to check you for signs of hernia and drug use."
Mihashi nods. He's not sure what that means, but whatever it is, it can't be-
"So we'll start by checking you for signs of a hernia. Stand up and lift your gown, please."
-that bad.
Right?
Mihashi feels his eyes widen. His doctor made him do this when he went for his physical before playing at Mihoshi, but he'd thought at the time that it was just a punishment. Because he'd been bad. Because he'd cried.
"L-lift my-"
"Gown, yes," Abe says. He's glaring at the floor. Probably trying not to be angry. "You'll have to turn your head and cough once. I'll be able to tell from your body's-from how your, ah, anatomy moves-if you have a hernia."
"B-but you'll-you'll see it," Mihashi says. "I took off my boxers."
Abe moves his glare from the floor to Mihashi's face. "There's nothing weird about it," he says. "Everyone who has a physical does this. Didn't you have to do it last time?"
"Y-yes," he says. "But. It was weird."
Because he was nervous. Because the last nurse who'd talked to him was really pretty. Because it got hard. Kind of. Before the doctor touched it. Which meant the doctor didn't want to touch it. Looked relieved when it went soft straight away once he'd started touching it.
"Think of it like getting undressed before bathing at camp," Abe says. "It takes less than a minute, and it doesn't hurt. It'll be over before you know it." He looks Mihashi right in the eye. Just like he does before giving the sign for the fastball. Trusting. Expecting Mihashi to trust him back. "It's awkward, but it's better than not pitching at Koushien. Right?"
Probably. Mihashi nods.
"What do I do if it-if it stands up?" he says, fast before he can chicken out of asking. Abe likes it when he asks questions. So it should be okay. To ask.
"Huh?"
"If it stands up."
"It-it's natural," Abe says, after a minute. He's blushing. Sort of. "To get like that. Especially at our age. The doctor won't think it's weird. No one would."
The last doctor did. Abe doesn't need to know that. "It's embarrassing," Mihashi says, instead.
"It's normal," Abe says. "Come on, the longer you hesitate the harder-that is, the more difficult-it is to just do it."
Mihashi bites his lower lip. Saying no to his catcher is really tough. "O-only if you won't look," he says.
"That would defeat the purpose of doing it," Abe says. "If I don't look, I won't be able to check you for a hernia. The doctor's going to have to look. Just long enough to check you. Less than a minute."
"But. What if it's. What if I'm weird? There?" Mihashi says.
Because sometimes he is. Especially around Abe. Sometimes.
"I promise I'll tell you if there's anything weird," Abe says. "I don't think there is, but I can let you know if there is before you go to the doctor. Then you can be prepared for what he'll say. Okay?"
Not really okay. But better than anyone else. Better than anyone else in the world.
"Would it be worse to have a doctor look at you for thirty seconds, or to not pitch at Koushien?"
Easy. "Not pitch."
"Then just get it over with," Abe says. "Come on. Lift your gown, turn your head to the side, and cough once. That's all you have to do."
Like it's so easy. Something twists in Mihashi's stomach. Almost like what he feels when he's frustrated with a homework problem, one he can't figure out.
"Abe-kun too," he says.
Abe blinks at him. "Huh?"
Mihashi's stomach twists harder. "You do it too," he says. "If it's not bad. To do it."
Without stuttering. His heart's beating faster. He can feel his forehead creasing. Just a little.
He's never been mad at Abe before. Not when Abe was around to see it.
It feels-
"All right," Abe says. He's ... laughing. Almost.
Weird.
"The doctor will lift your penis like this," he says, pushing down his pants and briefs and wrapping his hand around his cock. It's soft. Nestled up in its foreskin. Looks kind of small. Smaller than it looked the last time he was in the bath at the same time as Mihashi. Mihashi knows because he was looking. Because he was curious. Because he wanted to see what it looked like. "Then he'll ask you to turn your head to the side and cough once, like this."
His balls pull up when he coughs. His penis twitches. Mihashi waits. Kind of hopes it'll do that again.
But it doesn't, not before Abe's got it covered up, tucked up in his briefs and pants once again. Which is too bad, really. Mihashi would've liked to've seen it again.
"That's all there is to it," Abe says, distracting Mihashi from staring at him. "You might have to cough twice if you don't cough hard enough the first time. But that's all. Less than a minute. Doesn't hurt at all."
Mihashi swallows. He said he'd do it if Abe did it. Abe did it. So-
He closes his eyes. Lifts his gown. The air's cold. Makes his cock feel even more exposed and naked than it already is.
"I'm going to touch you now," he hears Abe say. "Just to move it out of the way. Okay?"
Not okay. Mihashi nods.
He braces himself for the touch of Abe's hand, startles when he feels it because it's cool and rubbery, a glove instead of calloused skin. Not what he was expecting. Freaks him out enough that he doesn't turn his head before he coughs, ends up coughing on his catcher.
"Again," Abe says. He's moving his hand. Cupping Mihashi's penis. It feels good. "Turn your head all the way to the side when you cough. You'll cough on the doctor, otherwise."
Mihashi sneaks a peak at him. Relaxes a tiny bit when he sees that Abe's not mad at him. Not glaring, anyway.
"S-sorry."
"It's fine," Abe says. "It's a common mistake. Go on, try again."
Mihashi turns his head as far as it will go. Strains the muscles in his neck when he coughs, but he's at least certain he didn't cough on Abe.
His cock feels warm, resting in Abe's gloved hand. Sensitive. Like it feels when Mihashi's in bed at night, not really sleepy yet and kind of maybe thinking about playing with himself. Like it might be interested in him playing with it. Like it might feel good if it were to get hard.
He looks down at his catcher. Swallows hard.
"Is it weird?" he says. Because if anyone will tell him the truth about it, it's Abe.
"Is what weird?"
"My-mine," Mihashi says. Definitely starting to get hard. "B-because it's not. Like yours."
Not soft and small and normal. Getting hard like it's okay to get hard in another person's hand.
"It's fine," Abe says, moving his hand. Opening it. Holding Mihashi's penis up so that it's really obvious that it's not as soft as it should be. "In some countries, most guys are cut."
Not in Japan. Mihashi's never been to any other countries. Not when he was old enough to remember it. Wasn't what he meant, anyway.
"Historically, the foreskin was removed for hygiene purposes," Abe says. Still holding onto Mihashi's penis. His hand's really warm. "It's still done in a lot of Western countries. Here, it's less common, but it's not unheard of. And it doesn't mean your-doesn't mean it won't work. It's the same cut or uncut. So it doesn't really matter."
Still not what Mihashi was asking. But it doesn't really matter, just like Abe said, so he lowers the gown when Abe takes his hand away and says he can, figures it's okay that his penis is hard and pushing at the front of the cotton because Abe said it was okay.
"That's about all they'll do for the exam," Abe says. "Afterwards, they'll run some tests on you, probably. Blood and urine tests for anemia and drug screenings. Those will be done by a nurse, though, and your mom can sit with you for the blood test, so you won't have to do it alone."
She sat with him last time. Had to look away during the blood test because she's bad with needles. Laughed when Mihashi tried to comfort her, holding her hand while the nurse put a Band-aid on his arm.
He's not worried about the blood test. Or the urine test.
The test Tajima told him about, though-
Abe notices him struggling, trying to get the question out of his head and onto his tongue. Frowns at him.
"If you have a question," he says, "ask it plainly. Doctors like it when patients ask question. It's easier than trying to guess what questions you have." A moment. "Like when you speak up during practice. We all really like it when you have ideas about the game. The doctor will be the same. He'll like it if you ask questions."
Mihashi's not so sure he agrees with that. But if Abe says so ...
"R-rectal exam," he says. Quick before he can lose his nerve.
Abe's eyes widen. "What?"
"T-they might do one," Mihashi says. "T-Tajima-kun said so."
Well. Kind of. He said that Abe would be happy about the requirement for a physical. Because of the rectal exam. Said it with that crooked grin of his on his face. Got smacked by Hanai for it.
"I've never had one," Abe says.
"B-but Tajima s-said-"
"Go to my doctor," Abe says. "He won't do a rectal exam."
Oh. But.
"Will you d-do it?" he says, even though he's pretty sure it'll annoy Abe if he keeps insisting. Which he won't. Not if Abe says no. Again. "Just in case? S-so I'm prepared?"
"You-" Abe's frowning at him when he looks up. Chewing the inside of his cheek like he does whenever they have to modify their pitching strategy mid-game. "Do you want me to do it?"
Mihashi nods. That's easy. He likes nodding at Abe. Especially when he likes what Abe's saying to him.
"You know what that kind of exam involves, right?"
He does. Fingers. Lubricant. That weird almost stinging feel at the beginning. Dull, strange pressure afterwards. His penis standing up when he did it to himself in the bath, the night after Tajima mentioned it at practice. But that's okay because his penis already stood up once and Abe didn't get mad at him for it. Won't get mad if it happens again.
"And you're sure you-"
"Please?"
Abe's looking at him funny. His face is very red.
"Fine," he says. "Bend over the bed, then. I'll get something to-"
A moment. Abe's mouth moves, but the words don't come. Mihashi knows how that feels. Waits for his catcher to get his tongue cooperating.
Abe sighs. "Just bend over the bed."
Easy enough. Mihashi nods and does as he's told, relief flooding through him that his catcher isn't angry with him, even though he was stubborn and talked back and insisted on getting his way.
It feels better than getting his way at Mihoshi did. Much, much better.
<< part i
part iii >>
I think it boils down to this: Mihashi's a complete mystery to me. He's a complete mystery to Abe, too, and that explains why writing Abe is easier for me. Neither of us can figure out what makes his pitcher tick.
You can find the original story here: part i • part ii • part iii
And the Mihashi-POV sequel here: part i • part ii • part iii
Physical Therapy
part ii
by mistr3ss Quickly
Sunday comes way too soon.
Mihashi doesn't sleep well, Saturday night. He's groggy when he drags himself out of bed, Sunday morning, to eat the breakfast his mom's called him downstairs for three times already. Stubs his toe on the doorjamb on his way out of the bathroom, which hurts. Kind of makes him want to cry.
His mom doesn't help with that, sitting down across from him at the table the minute he's sat down and started stuffing his face with toast. Her hand's warm when she wraps it around his, probably from the cup of coffee she brought over to the table. Soft like maybe she's been washing dishes or something.
Doesn't matter.
His mom says: "We need to talk, Ren."
That's what matters. Ties his stomach in a knot, hard enough that his toast tries to come back up his throat.
It doesn't manage to come up, but it tries pretty hard, the bit he hadn't managed to eat yet tasting of ash when his mom reminds him to eat his breakfast while she talks. She tells him how proud of him she is. How excited both she and his dad are that he'll be pitching at Koushien. How proud they are that he's part of a team that qualified for the most prestigious high school baseball game in Japan.
How she really won't hear any of his excuses for not pitching for his team, just because he's scared of doctors.
"I'm going to make the appointment this afternoon," she says. "Your father wanted to keep it a secret, but I don't think you need to be tricked into anything. It's the right thing to do, for you and for your team. You know that. And you're strong enough to do what needs to be done. Aren't you?"
He isn't. Maybe. Wasn't strong enough to pitch against Mihoshi in a practice game, back when he was a first year at Nishiura. Wasn't strong enough to stand up to Abe after Abe's injury, to tell him he wanted to shake his head sometimes without Abe telling him to, first.
Did all of those things anyway.
So he nods his head and tells his mom he'll go, tells her he wants eyeball hamburgers for dinner afterwards because eyeball hamburgers make everything better, always have. Tells his mom he has to go now because he's supposed to go study with Abe, tells her he loves her back when she ruffles his hair and tells him again that she's proud of him.
He goes upstairs to his room as soon as his plate's cleaned. Loads up his bag with every textbook he can think to take with him to Abe's house, just in case this is the last time Abe's going to want to help him study.
Which it won't be if he tells Abe that he's going to have the physical done, he's pretty sure, but the thought of telling Abe-of saying out loud that he's going to the doctor-makes him freeze up, even in the privacy of his own bedroom where he's just telling his own reflection, saying it softly under his breath and everything. Makes him seriously rethink his promise to his mom that he'll go to the doctor, which is no good so he swallows hard and tells his reflection that he's not going, that he'll tell Abe he's sorry because he can't go.
Lying to himself is easier than lying to Abe. Pretty convincing, too.
Which makes him feel kind of guilty and kind of sad and completely awful, his stomach right back in knots by the time he's biked to his catcher's house and knocked on the door.
Abe's right there at the door, opens as soon as Mihashi's knocked. Probably waiting for him. He invites Mihashi in, invites him upstairs. Doesn't seem all that upset with him, talking casually about how it's warm outside, about how his brother's got a match that afternoon. About how his parents are there, watching the kid play. Probably sweltering already.
"I wanted to talk to you about something," he says, sitting down close enough that Mihashi can see the faint lines between his catcher's eyebrows, remnants of the frown that isn't too serious yet, barely there at all. Abe's happy-face. Kind of. "About doctors. Why you don't like them."
Not about studying, then. Not about Mihashi's (dismal) grades. Not about the tests they've got coming up in all subjects.
Which means Abe didn't actually invite him over to study. Not surprising.
"I'm not mad at you," Abe says, when Mihashi tries to tell him he's sorry, just like he told his reflection in the mirror at home. "I just want to know what happened. With your last doctor."
Stuff that probably wouldn't bother other people. Normal people. Stuff that probably wouldn't even happen to normal people. Probably never happens to Abe.
"N-nothing?" he says. Not really expecting Abe to buy it, but.
But Abe doesn't yell at him. He takes a deep breath through his nose. A steadying technique he uses just for Mihashi. Because Mihashi is strange. A bother.
"The last time you went to the doctor," he says, "what was it for?"
"S-shots," Mihashi says.
"Vaccinations?" Abe says.
Mihashi nods. Waits. Abe's watching him. Waiting.
Doesn't have to wait long.
"And stuff," Mihashi says, because not telling Abe the whole truth is just as hard as lying to Abe, Abe's unblinking stare and brow creased with worry Mihashi's caused him weighing on Mihashi like a physical presence. "My weight. Because I wasn't eating."
Couldn't eat, most days. Not in the classroom where there was no one to sit with him while he ate. Not up on the roof where his teammates went for lunch when the weather was nice. Not even in the bathroom, not after Mr. Suzuki found him there and told him he'd get sick, eating around bathroom germs.
"How old were you?"
Too old for being so shy about everything, the doctor said. Old enough to take control of his own life and make some friends, come out of his shell. To speak up and not stutter and not look at his mom for support when he was nervous because that's childish and annoying, probably explains why he didn't have any friends.
Until Abe. Abe who sat with him and talked strategy with him and told him he was amazing on the mound. Abe who didn't care that he was strange and tiresome and a bother, who reminded him to eat and to drink water and to mind his wrists and fingers. Abe who helped him study and lay next to him to make sure he slept during summer camp. Abe who sent him emails, who kept sending him emails, even when Mihashi was shy and didn't answer the first dozen mails he got.
"Twelve," he says.
"What was the worst part of the visit?"
Like wanting to know the best part of pitching for Nishiura. Hard to pin down.
Mihashi swallows.
"I was doing bad," he says. It's not exactly what Abe asked, but Abe will ask again if he needs to. "The doctor said so. That I was too skinny. And I'd have to stop pitching. If I didn't gain weight."
"Did the doctor scold you?"
Yes. No. Kind of.
"He asked a lot of questions," Mihashi says. "I didn't answer right, so he got mad at me. H-he wanted me to go to another doctor. Because I was shy. He said that was bad."
Abe's glare deepens. "You know that's not how doctors are supposed to act, right?" he says. "They're supposed to take care of people, not get mad at them."
He looks upset. Angry.
Because of Mihashi.
"I'm a b-bother," Mihashi says. It feels oddly like shaking his head at his catcher. But it's important. Abe needs to know. So he won't be upset anymore. "He tried. To take care of me. But he couldn't. Because I'm strange."
Abe clears his throat. He's frowning less. "You've changed a lot since then," he says.
"I have?"
A nod. "You're seventeen, not twelve," Abe says. "You're the ace of a Koushien-qualified team. And you've been maintaining your weight since you were a freshman. Put on some good muscle. You're the picture of health. No one's going to scold you."
Mihashi doesn't say anything, embarrassed pleasure curling up from his stomach, making him feel warm all over like he did the day Nishiura faced Mihoshi with him pitching, faced Mihoshi's best and won. Makes him feel like he did the day Abe smiled at him the first time and held his hand and told him he could stand on the mound and pitch to his heart's content. That he'd be there and give him signals and catch for him, no matter how slowly he pitched.
Abe sighs. Probably annoyed that Mihashi hasn't said anything, but Mihashi can't think of anything to say, usually can't when his catcher's sitting so close, looking at him so intently.
"Look," Abe says, "I'm certain no one's going to get mad at you. But if it'll make you feel better, I can check you. Now. Make sure there's nothing wrong. If you want." A moment. Too short for Mihashi's brain to sort out the thank you-thank you-thank you from the yes-yes-please, leaving him mute. "I'm planning to go to medical school after we graduate from Nishiura. I've started researching general medical practice to prepare for that, so I know what I'm doing."
Which is just-just. Too much. Too cool.
Abe lifts an eyebrow at him when Mihashi manages to open his mouth but doesn't quite get any words-or sounds, for that matter-to come out.
He says: "What?"
Mihashi untangles his tongue well enough to say: "You're going to become a doctor?"
"Yeah?"
So. Cool.
"It is?" Abe says.
Which means Mihashi managed to get a thought out in words. A small victory.
He nods. Watches Abe's cheeks pink up. Which is another victory. Kind of. A different victory. But still a victory.
"Then let me give you a preliminary diagnostic physical," Abe says. "Please. To help me practice."
Mihashi's stomach does a flip. A good flip. He's known Abe for three years. Never once in those three years has Abe asked him for anything. Never once has he come up with something he could do for Abe, other than do what Abe tells him to do and try not to make him angry. But those don't count, not at all. Not like this would. Will.
"Okay," he says, fast before something goes wrong and Abe changes his mind. "If it'll help you."
Like Abe's helped him. Well. Not that much, because Abe's helped him a lot. But.
He stands when Abe stands, does his best not to fidget while Abe digs around in one of his dresser drawers, because fidgeting irritates Abe, makes him mad. Doesn't have much luck but it's okay because Abe turns around and hands him a hospital gown which gives his hands something to do other than fidget.
"Here," Abe says. "Put this on."
The doctor who didn't want Mihashi to pitch for Mihoshi made him put on a hospital gown, too. It was too baggy, made him feel even more naked than he already felt. Didn't close right in the back, either, which meant his butt was bare on the paper covering the exam table, which was weird and got weirder because he got sweaty and wrinkled the paper, which meant there was a print in the shape of his butt when he stood up, and there were nurses-nurses-there who probably saw the print and knew that he'd been sitting on the exam table without his boxers on, and that was weird, made him feel gross and bad and wrong when he thought about the nurses later, thought about them like that and touched himself and came a few times because they were kind of pretty and he was upset and touching himself made him feel better.
He still feels bad about thinking about nurses when he touches himself. Does it anyway. More than he probably should.
"Do I have to?" he says to Abe, without thinking. Regrets it immediately. Wishes, for the billionth time that week alone, that he could grab the words and stuff them back in his mouth where they belong.
But Abe doesn't get mad at him because Abe's going to be a doctor, a good doctor.
"Yes," is all he says. "Go on."
"Here?" Mihashi says. Just to be sure.
"We change together all the time in the clubhouse and at camp," Abe says. "This isn't any different."
Which is True but doesn't really Help. Mihashi wasn't really expecting it to.
He takes off his shirt and jeans, folds them neatly because Abe's always really neat, his room always impeccable when they study together. He turns to face his catcher, to ask for permission to leave his clothes on Abe's desk, but the words die in his mouth when he catches sight of Abe standing there so close to him in nothing but his briefs, nothing but his briefs.
He looks good. Lean. Muscular. Strong. His chest's got more hair on it than it did the summer before when they took a bath together at camp. His belly, too. Hair that goes down past the waistband of his briefs. Down to the place where his briefs bulge out a little.
"Why are you-" A stupid question; he's reaching for a pair of pants. Pants like doctors wear on the afternoon dramas Mihashi's mom watches. "Oh. I didn't think you'd-not like a real doctor."
A real doctor wearing Abe's face, the familiar frown and messy hair and dark eyes. Not as scary as Mihashi had expected. Not as weird. Natural. Like Abe was born to be a doctor or something.
Which is. Just. Too cool.
Just as cool as watching Abe suit up, pulling on the pants and shirt and draping a stethoscope around his neck, all smooth motion and coordination, not too fast or too slow, just-just right. Comfortable. Easy.
Glaring when he looks at Mihashi-at the hospital gown in Mihashi's hands-and sees that Mihashi hasn't done anything since turning around. Looking annoyed when he takes a step towards Mihashi, Mihashi's brain tangling up on itself when it should instead be telling his muscles to move, to get him into that gown before Abe gets mad and changes his mind about practicing with him.
But Abe doesn't get mad. He says, "It's just me," and takes the gown from Mihashi, shakes it out so that it's not all stiff and folded. Says: "Relax. You know I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to yell at you, either."
Which is no different from playing ball with him. Mihashi nods and takes the gown from his catcher. Puts his arms through the arm-holes, just like Abe wanted him to.
Only-
"I can't tie it," he says, because Abe told him years ago to speak up when something's wrong.
"Then turn around," Abe says. "I'll do it for you."
Which means Abe touching him, something Mihashi's always interested in, Abe's fingers warm where they're bumping against Mihashi's back, but-
"What if I can't tie it when I'm at the doctor's office?" Mihashi says. Because he couldn't, last time. Got in trouble because of it, had to have his mom come in and help him out because he got tongue-tied and couldn't tell the nurse that he was okay to do it, that he just needed a few minutes to work it out.
"Put it on backwards, tie it, then turn it around the right way after it's tied," Abe says, after a few seconds, just long enough for him to figure out a solution. "Do you want to try that?"
Mihashi nods. Waits patiently while his catcher gets him untied. Turns the gown. Does his best to tie it through the back-slit.
It works about as well for him as it did when he tried it five years earlier at the doctor's office.
Doesn't work at all.
"You can put your arms through the arm-holes to get it tied," Abe says.
He doesn't even sound impatient.
And he's right, almost always is about everything because he's smart and he cares, more than anyone other than Mihashi's mom and dad ever has. Nods once when Mihashi looks up at him, gown properly tied and turned around so that the ties go down the back, cool air from the air conditioner seeping in to raise goosebumps down Mihashi's spine.
"Good," Abe says. "Now take off your boxers and we'll get started."
Mihashi's heart sinks. He'd been hoping to get to skip that part.
"Take off my-"
"You don't keep them on during an exam," Abe tells him. Reminds him.
"B-but-"
"The gown covers you. You're fine. It's just the way things are done."
Which is True, but. But.
Mihashi hesitates. Weighs the options. Decides that doing what Abe's telling him to do is probably best. Always has been, before. Even when it meant pitching pitches the other team was expecting. Pitches the other team could hit. It would've been okay if Mihashi had pitched faster. If he'd been stronger.
So he drops his gaze and struggles out of his boxers, leaves them folded on top of his clothes, folded neatly on Abe's desk. He feels naked, completely naked, when he turns and faces Abe, but Abe's not looking at him funny so it's not as bad as he's expecting.
"You'll be alone when you do this at the clinic," Abe says. "When you're done, a nurse will come in and check your vitals. We'll do that next. Come sit down over here."
Patting the foot of his bed with his hand. Mihashi swallows and tries not to think too hard about it. About what it means to be on another person's bed. Naked.
Well.
Mostly naked.
The bedspread's soft. Moves nicely under his hands when he puts them down and wiggles experimentally. Doesn't leave any creases or wrinkles, which means Abe won't know where his butt's been. Which doesn't matter as much as it did when it was the nurses because he's got his butt covered this time, he can feel the cotton of the hospital gown under his skin, but. Still.
He tries to tell Abe that. Doesn't do a very good job.
"What is?" Abe says, frowning like he does when Mihashi's said something weird, even though all Mihashi's said is "Better."
He looks good, dressed like a doctor. Really good. Better than the real doctor did because Abe-kun is Abe-kun, and that makes him better than just about anyone.
Which makes it easier to tell him why the bed's better, makes the panic in his chest less severe than he'd've expected it to be when Abe tells him that the bed at the clinic will probably have paper on it, won't be soft and comfy like his bed.
"I'm going to take your temperature first," Abe says. "Then your blood pressure. Okay?"
Mihashi nods. Opens his mouth obediently for the thermometer, watches Abe untangle the blood-pressure cuff while he waits for the thermometer to beep. It's not scary at all. Nothing like actually going to the doctor. Nothing like it usually is, spending time with Abe, either.
It's nice. Not that spending time with Abe isn't nice, normally. But.
Abe measures his blood pressure while they wait for the thermometer to beep. Writes the results of each in his notebook.
"Blood pressure and temperature are both normal," he says. "I'll need to check your pulse next. Give me your hand."
Easily the best order he's given. Mihashi offers his hand. Watches his catcher move him, turning his hand, pressing two fingers against wrist. Abe's hand is strong. Calloused. Warm. Feels just as good as it does when Mihashi's nervous in class and imagines it wrapped around his own.
Better than that.
Really, really good.
"Pulse is fine," Abe says, letting go of Mihashi's hand far too soon. "We'll check your ENT next. Ears, nose, throat. Open your mouth and say 'ahh.'"
Mihashi obeys. Realizes, when Abe hesitates and frowns at him, that he hasn't brushed his teeth since right after breakfast. Pulls his tongue back into his mouth so that he can apologize when Abe says:
"You're not allergic to latex, are you?"
Not at all what Mihashi's expecting. His brain snags on itself. Freezes right up.
"Mihashi," Abe says. He's pulling on a pair of gloves. Blue rubber gloves. Just like the gloves the teacher handed out in biology class the last time they were doing dissections. Mihashi liked that lesson. Picking things apart, seeing how they went together. Organs all working together like players on the same team. Coming apart only after the game was over. When it was okay to not be together anymore.
"Mihashi. Latex allergy?"
Mihashi stops staring at his catcher's hands. "I don't-I don't know?"
Probably not. Unless the gloves in biology weren't latex. Then maybe.
But it doesn't matter because Abe says: "It's all right, I got non-latex gloves. Just you should tell them that you're allergic if you are so they can wear non-latex gloves when they work with you." He cocks his head to the side. Fixes Mihashi with that look, the one that makes Mihashi feel like he's the only thing his catcher is seeing.
Mihashi loves that look.
"The last time you went to the doctor," Abe says, "did you itch at all afterwards?"
Mihashi tries to remember. It's not easy. He's spent the past five years doing his best to not remember.
"Where I had blood drawn," he says, after a moment. "From the Band-aid."
"Well, to be safe, tell them you'd prefer non-latex gloves," Abe says. "They'll have them, so you don't have to worry about being a bother. It's okay to tell them stuff like that. They'd like that better than if you just keep quiet and have a bad reaction."
He's still messing with his gloves. They aren't going on as easily as the gloves he wears when he's at bat. Don't look as good on his hands as his batting gloves do.
"Open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and say 'aah,'" he says, picking up a tongue depressor. It tastes like wood, kind of dull and a little bitter. Tickles at the back of Mihashi's tongue, badly enough that he gags, which makes Abe apologize, earns Mihashi a frown when he tries to tell him that he didn't do anything wrong.
"Right," Abe says. "Well. Anyway. The doctor will check your ears and nose after this. I don't have any of the equipment to do that, but it doesn't hurt so you don't need to worry about it. Okay? They'll just look in your ears and nose. Make sure you're okay."
Mihashi knows about that part. Didn't hate it when he went to the doctor when he was little because his doctor back then was really nice and told him he was looking in Mihashi's ears for elephants, because he'd heard a rumor that all of the elephants in the zoo sneaked out in the middle of the night and the authorities were pretty sure the whole herd had found a nice little boy who felt sorry for them and said they could hide in his ears.
He tries to tell Abe that. Manages only to get the word "elephants" out, but it's good enough. Gets Abe to stop and look at him, waiting long enough for Mihashi to tell him what he meant. Kind of. Gets him to almost kind of smile, maybe, when he says that his doctor said the same thing when he was little.
Mihashi tries to imagine what Abe might've been like as a little boy. Doesn't have much luck.
He sits up straight when he sees Abe reach for the stethoscope draped around his neck, takes deep, slow breaths because that's what the school nurse always wants him to do when she comes at him with the stethoscope. It's nice, makes him think of meditation on the field before practice, and it never hurts, never gets him in trouble. Gets him an approving look from Abe, too, Abe's fingers touching his back, almost tickling him.
"Sorry," Abe says. "It's cold. Bear with it for me."
"It's not," Mihashi says. "It t-tickles. A little."
Abe doesn't say anything. He listens to Mihashi breathe longer than the school nurse usually listens, but his fingers are touching Mihashi's back, warm even through the rubber gloves, so Mihashi doesn't mind. Misses them a little, even, when Abe steps back, straightening.
"Breathing is fine," he says. "The doctor might want to test your lung capacity, too. He'll have you blow into a tube attached to a box. It's not a bad thing. Probably just curiosity about how much your lungs can hold. Okay?"
Mihashi nods. "Like a breathalyzer test," he says.
Abe raises an eyebrow at him. "How do you-"
He doesn't need to know about Mihashi's dad's stories of getting pulled over for DUI on the bicycle he'd stolen from his younger sister, back in the days when he was "young and stupid," so Mihashi shrugs and doesn't look his catcher in the eye and says: "I read about it. Once."
Which seems to be enough for his catcher, Abe dropping the subject in favor of testing Mihashi's reflexes, his hand warm against Mihashi's leg where it's holding the gown out of the way.
He's frowning when he looks at Mihashi again, even though Mihashi's reflexes worked exactly like they were supposed to. He says: "All right. That's the general physical. Next he'll want to check you for signs of hernia and drug use."
Mihashi nods. He's not sure what that means, but whatever it is, it can't be-
"So we'll start by checking you for signs of a hernia. Stand up and lift your gown, please."
-that bad.
Right?
Mihashi feels his eyes widen. His doctor made him do this when he went for his physical before playing at Mihoshi, but he'd thought at the time that it was just a punishment. Because he'd been bad. Because he'd cried.
"L-lift my-"
"Gown, yes," Abe says. He's glaring at the floor. Probably trying not to be angry. "You'll have to turn your head and cough once. I'll be able to tell from your body's-from how your, ah, anatomy moves-if you have a hernia."
"B-but you'll-you'll see it," Mihashi says. "I took off my boxers."
Abe moves his glare from the floor to Mihashi's face. "There's nothing weird about it," he says. "Everyone who has a physical does this. Didn't you have to do it last time?"
"Y-yes," he says. "But. It was weird."
Because he was nervous. Because the last nurse who'd talked to him was really pretty. Because it got hard. Kind of. Before the doctor touched it. Which meant the doctor didn't want to touch it. Looked relieved when it went soft straight away once he'd started touching it.
"Think of it like getting undressed before bathing at camp," Abe says. "It takes less than a minute, and it doesn't hurt. It'll be over before you know it." He looks Mihashi right in the eye. Just like he does before giving the sign for the fastball. Trusting. Expecting Mihashi to trust him back. "It's awkward, but it's better than not pitching at Koushien. Right?"
Probably. Mihashi nods.
"What do I do if it-if it stands up?" he says, fast before he can chicken out of asking. Abe likes it when he asks questions. So it should be okay. To ask.
"Huh?"
"If it stands up."
"It-it's natural," Abe says, after a minute. He's blushing. Sort of. "To get like that. Especially at our age. The doctor won't think it's weird. No one would."
The last doctor did. Abe doesn't need to know that. "It's embarrassing," Mihashi says, instead.
"It's normal," Abe says. "Come on, the longer you hesitate the harder-that is, the more difficult-it is to just do it."
Mihashi bites his lower lip. Saying no to his catcher is really tough. "O-only if you won't look," he says.
"That would defeat the purpose of doing it," Abe says. "If I don't look, I won't be able to check you for a hernia. The doctor's going to have to look. Just long enough to check you. Less than a minute."
"But. What if it's. What if I'm weird? There?" Mihashi says.
Because sometimes he is. Especially around Abe. Sometimes.
"I promise I'll tell you if there's anything weird," Abe says. "I don't think there is, but I can let you know if there is before you go to the doctor. Then you can be prepared for what he'll say. Okay?"
Not really okay. But better than anyone else. Better than anyone else in the world.
"Would it be worse to have a doctor look at you for thirty seconds, or to not pitch at Koushien?"
Easy. "Not pitch."
"Then just get it over with," Abe says. "Come on. Lift your gown, turn your head to the side, and cough once. That's all you have to do."
Like it's so easy. Something twists in Mihashi's stomach. Almost like what he feels when he's frustrated with a homework problem, one he can't figure out.
"Abe-kun too," he says.
Abe blinks at him. "Huh?"
Mihashi's stomach twists harder. "You do it too," he says. "If it's not bad. To do it."
Without stuttering. His heart's beating faster. He can feel his forehead creasing. Just a little.
He's never been mad at Abe before. Not when Abe was around to see it.
It feels-
"All right," Abe says. He's ... laughing. Almost.
Weird.
"The doctor will lift your penis like this," he says, pushing down his pants and briefs and wrapping his hand around his cock. It's soft. Nestled up in its foreskin. Looks kind of small. Smaller than it looked the last time he was in the bath at the same time as Mihashi. Mihashi knows because he was looking. Because he was curious. Because he wanted to see what it looked like. "Then he'll ask you to turn your head to the side and cough once, like this."
His balls pull up when he coughs. His penis twitches. Mihashi waits. Kind of hopes it'll do that again.
But it doesn't, not before Abe's got it covered up, tucked up in his briefs and pants once again. Which is too bad, really. Mihashi would've liked to've seen it again.
"That's all there is to it," Abe says, distracting Mihashi from staring at him. "You might have to cough twice if you don't cough hard enough the first time. But that's all. Less than a minute. Doesn't hurt at all."
Mihashi swallows. He said he'd do it if Abe did it. Abe did it. So-
He closes his eyes. Lifts his gown. The air's cold. Makes his cock feel even more exposed and naked than it already is.
"I'm going to touch you now," he hears Abe say. "Just to move it out of the way. Okay?"
Not okay. Mihashi nods.
He braces himself for the touch of Abe's hand, startles when he feels it because it's cool and rubbery, a glove instead of calloused skin. Not what he was expecting. Freaks him out enough that he doesn't turn his head before he coughs, ends up coughing on his catcher.
"Again," Abe says. He's moving his hand. Cupping Mihashi's penis. It feels good. "Turn your head all the way to the side when you cough. You'll cough on the doctor, otherwise."
Mihashi sneaks a peak at him. Relaxes a tiny bit when he sees that Abe's not mad at him. Not glaring, anyway.
"S-sorry."
"It's fine," Abe says. "It's a common mistake. Go on, try again."
Mihashi turns his head as far as it will go. Strains the muscles in his neck when he coughs, but he's at least certain he didn't cough on Abe.
His cock feels warm, resting in Abe's gloved hand. Sensitive. Like it feels when Mihashi's in bed at night, not really sleepy yet and kind of maybe thinking about playing with himself. Like it might be interested in him playing with it. Like it might feel good if it were to get hard.
He looks down at his catcher. Swallows hard.
"Is it weird?" he says. Because if anyone will tell him the truth about it, it's Abe.
"Is what weird?"
"My-mine," Mihashi says. Definitely starting to get hard. "B-because it's not. Like yours."
Not soft and small and normal. Getting hard like it's okay to get hard in another person's hand.
"It's fine," Abe says, moving his hand. Opening it. Holding Mihashi's penis up so that it's really obvious that it's not as soft as it should be. "In some countries, most guys are cut."
Not in Japan. Mihashi's never been to any other countries. Not when he was old enough to remember it. Wasn't what he meant, anyway.
"Historically, the foreskin was removed for hygiene purposes," Abe says. Still holding onto Mihashi's penis. His hand's really warm. "It's still done in a lot of Western countries. Here, it's less common, but it's not unheard of. And it doesn't mean your-doesn't mean it won't work. It's the same cut or uncut. So it doesn't really matter."
Still not what Mihashi was asking. But it doesn't really matter, just like Abe said, so he lowers the gown when Abe takes his hand away and says he can, figures it's okay that his penis is hard and pushing at the front of the cotton because Abe said it was okay.
"That's about all they'll do for the exam," Abe says. "Afterwards, they'll run some tests on you, probably. Blood and urine tests for anemia and drug screenings. Those will be done by a nurse, though, and your mom can sit with you for the blood test, so you won't have to do it alone."
She sat with him last time. Had to look away during the blood test because she's bad with needles. Laughed when Mihashi tried to comfort her, holding her hand while the nurse put a Band-aid on his arm.
He's not worried about the blood test. Or the urine test.
The test Tajima told him about, though-
Abe notices him struggling, trying to get the question out of his head and onto his tongue. Frowns at him.
"If you have a question," he says, "ask it plainly. Doctors like it when patients ask question. It's easier than trying to guess what questions you have." A moment. "Like when you speak up during practice. We all really like it when you have ideas about the game. The doctor will be the same. He'll like it if you ask questions."
Mihashi's not so sure he agrees with that. But if Abe says so ...
"R-rectal exam," he says. Quick before he can lose his nerve.
Abe's eyes widen. "What?"
"T-they might do one," Mihashi says. "T-Tajima-kun said so."
Well. Kind of. He said that Abe would be happy about the requirement for a physical. Because of the rectal exam. Said it with that crooked grin of his on his face. Got smacked by Hanai for it.
"I've never had one," Abe says.
"B-but Tajima s-said-"
"Go to my doctor," Abe says. "He won't do a rectal exam."
Oh. But.
"Will you d-do it?" he says, even though he's pretty sure it'll annoy Abe if he keeps insisting. Which he won't. Not if Abe says no. Again. "Just in case? S-so I'm prepared?"
"You-" Abe's frowning at him when he looks up. Chewing the inside of his cheek like he does whenever they have to modify their pitching strategy mid-game. "Do you want me to do it?"
Mihashi nods. That's easy. He likes nodding at Abe. Especially when he likes what Abe's saying to him.
"You know what that kind of exam involves, right?"
He does. Fingers. Lubricant. That weird almost stinging feel at the beginning. Dull, strange pressure afterwards. His penis standing up when he did it to himself in the bath, the night after Tajima mentioned it at practice. But that's okay because his penis already stood up once and Abe didn't get mad at him for it. Won't get mad if it happens again.
"And you're sure you-"
"Please?"
Abe's looking at him funny. His face is very red.
"Fine," he says. "Bend over the bed, then. I'll get something to-"
A moment. Abe's mouth moves, but the words don't come. Mihashi knows how that feels. Waits for his catcher to get his tongue cooperating.
Abe sighs. "Just bend over the bed."
Easy enough. Mihashi nods and does as he's told, relief flooding through him that his catcher isn't angry with him, even though he was stubborn and talked back and insisted on getting his way.
It feels better than getting his way at Mihoshi did. Much, much better.
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