The shock of a loss is the same every single time: it's a swooping feeling in the gut, the sensation of being punched, the air stolen right out of his lungs.
It happens with varying intensity. Sometimes, the disappointment is so sharp that it cuts right into him, and sometimes it's more of a light sting. Abe hates losing, but he knows to hold his head high, to look back over the game and think of what he's done right, and what he needs to work on to make sure that it doesn't happen again.
It varies depending on the team that he's on as well.
Nishiura take every single loss as a personal failure.
He can see the disappointment in the trembling of their shoulders, of their clenched jaws and averted eyes. He's no different; he's not just standing there as an impassive observer. He's right in the middle of it and he feels it too. He feels the sting at the back of his eyes, the tears that he refuses to shed.
Some of his teammates don't bother trying to hold them back, and Mihashi is one of them.
Abe knows, with just one look at him on the pitching mound, that Mihashi blames himself entirely for their loss. It's a habit that Abe knows that they're all in the process of breaking, as a team but right now, it's still there. It's there in the way Mihashi is too afraid to meet his eyes, his nervous tics still there even when there are tears streaming down his face. He stiffens as he sees Abe throwing down his catchers mask and striding over towards the mound, eyes darting around as he tries to find an escape, but Abe doesn't give him the time for that.
"Abe-kun," Mihashi says, when they're close enough to touch, "I'm s-s-s—"
Abe doesn't let him finish. He reaches out and grabs Mihashi by the shoulders and pulls him in, hugging him tightly. Mihashi freezes up for a moment, until he realises what's happening, and then he presses his forehead against the front of Abe's chest protector and cries even harder.
Gritting his teeth together, Abe blinks. It's never been this difficult to resist the urge to cry before. Mihashi clings to him, hugging him back, and cries freely, his face hidden from sight. Abe keeps him close, glad that he can provide comfort in this way, at least.
"Next time…" he promises, stroking his fingers through Mihashi's hair, "…we'll win. Definitely."
Mihashi nods against Abe, sniffing loudly. Abe feels the tears at the corners of his own eyes, but he doesn't let them fall.
FILL: Team Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, G
no tags
word count: 444
remix of
The shock of a loss is the same every single time: it's a swooping feeling in the gut, the sensation of being punched, the air stolen right out of his lungs.
It happens with varying intensity. Sometimes, the disappointment is so sharp that it cuts right into him, and sometimes it's more of a light sting. Abe hates losing, but he knows to hold his head high, to look back over the game and think of what he's done right, and what he needs to work on to make sure that it doesn't happen again.
It varies depending on the team that he's on as well.
Nishiura take every single loss as a personal failure.
He can see the disappointment in the trembling of their shoulders, of their clenched jaws and averted eyes. He's no different; he's not just standing there as an impassive observer. He's right in the middle of it and he feels it too. He feels the sting at the back of his eyes, the tears that he refuses to shed.
Some of his teammates don't bother trying to hold them back, and Mihashi is one of them.
Abe knows, with just one look at him on the pitching mound, that Mihashi blames himself entirely for their loss. It's a habit that Abe knows that they're all in the process of breaking, as a team but right now, it's still there. It's there in the way Mihashi is too afraid to meet his eyes, his nervous tics still there even when there are tears streaming down his face. He stiffens as he sees Abe throwing down his catchers mask and striding over towards the mound, eyes darting around as he tries to find an escape, but Abe doesn't give him the time for that.
"Abe-kun," Mihashi says, when they're close enough to touch, "I'm s-s-s—"
Abe doesn't let him finish. He reaches out and grabs Mihashi by the shoulders and pulls him in, hugging him tightly. Mihashi freezes up for a moment, until he realises what's happening, and then he presses his forehead against the front of Abe's chest protector and cries even harder.
Gritting his teeth together, Abe blinks. It's never been this difficult to resist the urge to cry before. Mihashi clings to him, hugging him back, and cries freely, his face hidden from sight. Abe keeps him close, glad that he can provide comfort in this way, at least.
"Next time…" he promises, stroking his fingers through Mihashi's hair, "…we'll win. Definitely."
Mihashi nods against Abe, sniffing loudly. Abe feels the tears at the corners of his own eyes, but he doesn't let them fall.
Not yet, anyway.