title: tabula rasa
summary: the need is mutual, you've just forgotten.
pairing: michael/chris, OC baseball players

michael's POV


From the moment you're born, life is just one line of bullshit after another.

First your parents, then your teachers, and your coaches spoonfeeding you line after line of bullshit until you can't tell the difference anymore.

They tell you that you're gonna be a big star, you're gonna make the big bucks, they'll string up your name in lights over the City, they'll worship you like you're the second coming of Randy fucking Johnson or something.

You know that it's all a load of bullshit.

(you stood on the mound and you turned the ball in your hands. you bit down on your lip so hard you bled, and you scuffed your feet in the dirt, trying to forget it. he came out from behind home plate and pulled off his mask, and the lights danced in his hair and he was tipped in silver, and you forgot everything you ever knew. your mind was wiped clean, tabula rasa.)

They tell you that you're the future, you're the franchise. You're the savior, the team's own Jesus. You're going to absolve the team of their sins and you're going to lead them to the World Series, and this is what it's all about, kid, this is it. This is the show, no pressure or anything.

You can handle anything though, you can handle anything life throws your way. You're a strong kid, a good all-American Christian kid, a Jesus-loving, God-fearing, apple pie, milk and Mom kinda guy. The kinda guy the media just loves, the kinda guy that all the girls want to take home to their mothers.

But you're a ballplayer, you don't need love. All you need is the game, you don't need the extraneous stuff. Fuck love, love is for the silly kids who come up to single-A all bright eyed and untouched and leave hardened men. You keep telling yourself that and maybe that'll make it true.

(he'll push you against the wall, his palms so big and spanning your chest, this thumbs coming to meet over your traitorous heart. you'll feel his heat pulsing into you, a warmth you're sure you've never felt before. you'll feel the winter inside of you melting from this heat and you'll come apart at the seams and you won't be much of a person anymore, but you'll be in his hands and you'll think that you could even be happy one day.)

You're like Fuck this game, you're like I don't need this fucking game, it needs me, and you're wrong. The need is mutual, you've just forgotten.