A/N: I was very excited to post this fic only to be informed that there was already a baseball AU fic here. But my was also kicked into gear by mediumdrip who very gracefully yelled at me "SO? THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU CAN'T DO ONE AS WELL?" And this thing was published. I hope you enjoy?

 

Irene considered it to be a bad start to her new life.

 

It was barely three hours into her new start at a new town and already she had gotten lost, bumped into and now wet, due to the sudden downpour that occurred while she was cutting through the courtyard to avoid being late to her next class. Shaking her head like a wet dog, she slid the classroom door open quietly, stopping the teacher yelling at the boys mid sentence as all the attention swiveled towards her. Her cheeks growing warm, Irene stepped into the classroom and closed the door, holding out the damp paper that stated her new enrolment for the teacher.

 

The man leant down slightly and lifted his glasses, eyes squinting at the words before nodding, bellowing deep and startling more than half the boys in the class out of their haze.

 

(Irene pulled her cardigan over her shirt self consciously, noticing that at least three of them were looking at her very wet, very thin T-shirt.)

 

“Alright, class! We have a new student here! No funny business!”

 

Ierne wasn’t sure if the last bit was directed towards her or towards the group of boys suddenly whispering amongst themselves and waggling their eyebrows. She straightened her back and pulled her blank expression into a attentive one when the teacher waved towards her in a sweeping motion, his voice coming out in another shout, startling the girls gossiping by the corner.

 

“Introduce yourself! Keep it short!”

 

Irene lowered her head in a small bow and spoke clearly, hiding her nervousness by twisting her fingers together.

 

“Hi, my name is Irene Bae. Pleased to meet you all. I hope we’ll get along.”

 

The teacher cleared his throat, clearly pleased that Irene had listened to him and gestured vaguely towards the space in front of him, Irene ducking under his waving hand to heed his instruction.

 

“Just sit anywhere that’s empty.

 

Irene chose the front seats, managing to ignore the wolf whistles but not quite shutting out the inevitable whispers that filtered through.

 

(Nerd.

 

Did you see how she was dressed?

 

What a dork.

 

Doesn’t look like there’s much going for her except that pretty face.

 

Not that pretty if you’re asking me.)

 

Irene shook her head and focused on pulling out her books.

 

Her chest ached painfully as the whispers continued, volume of the chatter increasing as though they didn’t care if Irene overheard.

 

(They probably didn’t.)

 

Irene considered it to be a bad start to her new life.

 

But what was she expecting, considering high school was the same everywhere?

 

*

 

“Maybe you could try joining a club?”

 

Irene lowered her head and scooped another spoonful of rice into , nodding silently to her mother’s response to her recount of her day in school. Her father, predictably, ate his dinner quietly, the only response to the conversation was the low grunt he gave when her mother turned to him for confirmation.

 

“Right? If she joined a club, it’d be better for her?”

 

Reaching out for another piece of meat, Irene started to tune her mother out when her father spoke up, his low baritone startling Irene out of her daze, the girl dropping the beef onto the placemat.

 

“I heard softball was a big thing at your school. Maybe you could try it out?”

 

Her mother immediately latched onto that.

 

“Yes! I heard the ladies at the market talking about it. It’s the town’s pride, the softball team!”

 

Wincing, Irene made a noncommittal sound, wondering how it was her mother had forgotten the hate relationship she had with any kind of sports that had rounded objects. But she kept shut, allowing her mother to ramble on continuously about how she’d make it as a big softball star and that her life in school would finally turn around.

 

The dinner ended like how it always did, her mother planning her life for her, her father taking absolutely no interest save for some small comments and grunts and Irene quietly finishing her food.

 

*

 

It wasn’t as though her parents were terrible to her.

 

They were fair, as most parents were, but they were also tired as they had her late in their marriage lives, late enough for Irene to understand that she was an accident. She did not fault them for it, her mother’s insistence that she was a model child, brilliant, outgoing and multitalented, her father’s silent approach in life, barely sparing her glance most days and when he did, it was to quietly order her to be better.

 

And because she was their child, there was this nagging feeling to do better, to be better, despite the world being desperately out to get her.

 

(She still had that scar from when she went for tennis in a previous school.

 

She still didn’t know how her partner’s racquet broke. Or why it was aiming for her when it did.)

 

And because of that, Irene found herself pondering on whether she should try out for the softball team as she wandered around the quiet neighbourhood, the stars in the sky accompanying her as she took her nighttime walk. She kicked the loose stones on the sidewalk, stuffing her hands into her jacket pocket and mumbled to herself.

 

“Should I?”

 

It would make her parents happy if she did get in. It would probably get her some friends. After all, aren’t sports team supposed to be very close? All for one and all that.

 

But there was that issue of her lack of hand eye coordination.

 

Sighing, Irene veered left, following the pathway blindly when a hard object collided with her head, the force behind it sending her off balance. She flailed slightly before landing on flat on her back, the stars swimming in her vision, her head throbbing loudly. There was a gasp and then a very pretty girl blocked the stars, her face scrunched up in worry.

 

“Oh my god! Are you alright?”

 

Blinking, Irene tried sitting up, instinctively reaching out to grab the girl’s arm when the ground started to move. The brunette changed her hold to a more secure one, one arm around her back, the other grasping at Irene’s clawing fingers, cooing softly as she did so.

 

“Whoa, slow down, slugger.”

 

Irene shook her head, once, twice, and her eyes landed on a white round ball. Though injured, her brain capacity did not seem to have diminished as she put two and two together, scowling at the brunette who suddenly looked very sheepish when she saw what Irene was looking at.

 

“You threw that at me.”

 

The girl panicked.

 

“Ah! It wasn’t-I mean- I was throwing it in this direction and you just happen to walk by, which by the way, not advisable this late at night - but it totally wasn’t meant to hit you!”

 

(Girl was pretty cute flustered.)

 

Irene blinked again, gently letting go of the pretty girl when the ground stopped spinning. She pressed against the bump on her head lightly, wincing again when the bruise pulsed painfully under her fingertips. Cold fingers joined hers and she was once again greeted with a face full of beauty, the wayward ball thrower checking out the injury as well. The brunette clucked her tongue and pouted, Irene’s voice suddenly taking a vacation when the girl spoke.

 

“It looks pretty bad. Do you want me to get some ice?”

 

Confused as to why her heart rate had started increasing, Irene shook her head quickly, regretting it slightly when she could feel her brain rattling in her skull. The brunette frowned, the motion exaggerated by expressive eyebrows and she edged closer.

 

(Irene could practically feel her brain cells dying.)

 

“Are you sure? It’s already turning purple.”

 

With some difficulty, Irene managed to croak out a sentence, her fingers curling into a fist on the pavement.

 

“I’ll be okay.”

 

Though unconvinced, the girl nodded while slowly helping Irene to her feet, making sure that the brunette was steady before letting go. She backed away with another sheepish smile and apologised again, her hands wringing in front of her.

 

(How cute.)

 

“Again, I’m really sorry.”

 

Irene waved a hand, still unable to function properly after that knock to her head but the message seemed to have passed on, the girl nodding before bouncing off, still energetic this late at night.

 

(What was she doing out this late and throwing softballs no less?)

 

Noticing the item that had struck her on the ground, Irene bent down to pick it up, her voice making a comeback as she shouted after the girl, the brunette turning around curiously.

 

“Hey! You forgot this!”

 

The girl grinned, the smile blinding even in the dark of the night and gestured wildly.

 

“Just toss it over!”

 

Irene hesitated before drawing her hand back, throwing the ball forward with what little energy she had left, thoroughly sure that it would land like three feet in front of her instead of reaching the girl’s outstretched hands.

 

To her immense surprise, the ball looped into a wide arc, the brown haired girl jumping up easily and catching it, looking very impressed by Irene’s throw.

 

“Not bad! Maybe you should try out for our softball team!”

 

Irene grew confused.

 

“What?”

 

“Our softball team? Tryouts are soon!”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“Just sign up! The sheet’s on the announcement board!”

 

“Wait, how did you know I even go to the same-”

 

The softball player turned around and left Irene dumbfounded by the sidewalk, Irene stunned into silence by the abrupt departure.

 

But...

 

It looked like her dilemma was solved for her.

 

(Looks like she’d be trying out for the softball team.)

 

*

 

Staring up at the signup sheet tacked onto the board, Irene could feel the confidence she had yesterday drain out of her body as she stared at the filled try out list, the amount of names daunting and weighing down upon her like an anvil. Her pulse raced and she shook her head, abandoning all ideas of joining the softball team just because she managed to lob a ball over a distance.

 

For all she knew, yesterday was just a fluke and she really was just as terrible as she was at sports all those years ago.

 

She turned away from the announcement board and missed colliding into a tall girl by mere centimeters, Irene jumping away just in time and spinning on her heel. The dark haired girl raised an eyebrow at her and tilted her head to one side, one side of pulled downwards as she stared at Irene. Belatedly, Irene realised that the girl was wearing a cheerleading jersey, a not so pleasant memory of her last encounter with one of those people springing to the forefront of her mind.

 

Immediately she bowed and apologised, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

 

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

 

There was a pause, Irene blinking the hair out of her eyes and then a guffaw of laughter rang melodiously above her. Fingers grabbed her shoulders and she was pulled upright, the previously stern look on the cheerleader’s face replaced with a beautiful smile.

 

(Was this school just filled with beautiful people? First that girl who threw the ball at her yesterday and now this girl too?)

 

“Don’t worry about it! Though, pretty sweet moves. You’re a dancer?”

 

Irene shook her head, wondering why the ebony haired girl’s hands were still holding her.

 

“I’ve never danced before.”

 

The tall girl tilted her head to the other side.

 

“Huh. I could’ve sworn...”

 

She trailed off, Irene shuffling on her feet uncomfortably as she stared at the brunette curiously. Edging away from the hold subtly, Irene rubbed at her arm awkwardly, her chin dipping down and she tried to excuse herself when the cheerleader spoke up again, this time a softer smile on her face.

 

“You thinking of joining any teams?”

 

Irene opened to answer, the truth coming out faster than the lie her brain was making up.

 

“I was thinking of the softball team.”

 

The black haired girl’s eyebrows raised again, her eyes narrowing slightly. Irene felt like she was being placed in an X-Ray, with how intently the girl was staring at her, her fingers pulling on the hem of her uniform slightly as she squirmed under the gaze.

 

“You look more like a dancer than an athlete, to be quite honest. Have you thought about joining the cheer team instead?”

 

Blinking rapidly, Irene croaked a response, her cheeks flushing for no reason.

 

“Cheer team?”

 

The girl laughed and nodded.

 

“Yeah! I mean, we don’t have the reputation the softball team does but we’re pretty good.”

 

She pointed over to the board, Irene looking around to spot another sign up sheet, one less filled as compared to the softball team’s but still held an impressive number of names. Swallowing thickly, she returned her attention towards the girl, the dark haired student flipping her hair over her shoulder.

 

“Think about it. If you’re still set on the softball team, why not put your name down for both and try out at the same time? We have it on the same day and the fields are right next to each other.”

 

With piercing eyes boring into her, Irene felt her hand move obediently, her fingers grasping at the hanging pen located by the metal beam of the board. She signed her names on both papers, dropping the stationery once she was done. The cheerleader clapped her hands and bounced on her toes, looking more excited than Irene felt.

 

“Yay! You’re going to be great, Irene.”

 

Irene lowered her head bashfully and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, wondering just how it was that she got roped into situations such as these.

 

(She blamed her introverted nature.)

 

The girl stuck her hand out, another smile aimed at her, her eyes curving along this time and she grabbed Irene’s hand tightly.

 

“I’m Seulgi! I’m the head cheerleader meaning I’ll be overseeing the auditions! Make sure to be on time!”

 

Irene nodded blankly, watching as the other girl pranced off, once again left stunned by the sudden departure.

 

(Do people take a class here on that or...?)

 

Irene shook her head once and turned back towards the board, eyeing her name on both sheets.

 

Well.

 

If she did do badly on both tryouts...

 

She was sure that she could find a way to be homeschooled.

 

*

 

Despite the pep talk and the comfort she tried to offer herself in being able to run away should she make a fool of herself all week, Irene still felt like there was a pot of molten lead poured down during lunch, settling heavily in her stomach and making her limbs feel like there were made of wood. The end of her ponytail stuck to the back of her neck, her skin already sticky from the sweat as she stretched quietly in a corner, trying not to look at anyone around here.

 

(But too late, she had already taken a look at the competition and it did nothing to soothe her frayed nerves.)

 

“Oh hey! You came!”

 

Irene jolted in her spot when a familiar voice rang out, the brunette turning around to see the girl from the park walking towards her. Blushing (though she wasn’t sure why), Irene nodded and dropped her gaze from the smile that stars seemed to dim in comparison, suddenly very aware of the stares the other girls were giving her. Peeking out of the corner of her eyes, Irene’s heart dropped down another level when she realised that they were glaring at her hatefully, some already speaking softly behind their hands.

 

“I didn’t think you would, slugger. But no matter, since you’re here now.”

 

The girl grinned and clapped a hand on Irene’s shoulder, Irene somehow zeroing in on that dimple on her cheek and the way her lip would tilt just slightly higher on the left side. Coughing awkwardly, she patted the hand once and dropped her arm.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Yah, Wendy, don’t steal my cheerleader.”

 

The beauty - Wendy - turned towards the voice and teased goodnaturedly, Seulgi scowling at her playfully.

 

“Well, don’t steal my potential pitcher.”

 

Somehow feeling like a fraud, Irene opened to deny both their assumptions about her when Seulgi clapped her hands, her words once again stopped from ever forming.

 

“Alright. Hurry up with your tryouts. I’ll like to have mine before nightfall.”

 

Wendy shrugged and turned back towards Irene, her grin turning into something Irene can’t read.

 

“Well, slugger, good luck!”

 

Irene nodded dumbly and pulled at her ponytail, wondering just how long it would take for them to realise she really wasn’t who they thought she was.

 

(It was one throw.

 

And Seulgi haven’t even seen her dance.)

 

*

 

Twenty minutes.

 

That was how long it took for Irene to embarrass herself in front of Wendy. She glared at the white ball in front of her, a dent made on soft grass from where Irene had thrown the ball into before stalking off the field, her ears ringing with the laughter of her peers. Her neck burned with shame and she half mind walk off right now, not wanting to see just how badly she’d tear her dignity into shreds when it was her turn during the cheerleading tryouts.

 

Wendy, bless her soul, was containing her laughter when she addressed Irene, her fingers white against the clipboard she was holding tightly.

 

“Well, slugger, lucky shot that night?”

 

Irene scowled but did not say anything, not wanting to give Wendy the satisfaction of knowing just how chagrined she was. The brunette let out a giggle before calling for the next girl, the dark haired student grinning victoriously at Irene before heading towards the pitch. Groaning, Irene excused herself to the benches where Seulgi was sitting cross-legged.

 

To her surprise, the girl wasn’t laughing, though there was an odd smile on her face, one that Irene came to recognise as the same one her mother would have on when she had been proven right. Her suspicions were confirmed when Seulgi spoke up, the girl patting the seat beside her.

 

“Told you you weren’t an athlete.”

 

Irene sat down heavily and responded despondently.

 

“I’m not a dancer either. I don’t know where the both of you got the idea that I was either of those things.”

 

Seulgi edged closer, an easy smile on her lips.

 

“I don’t know when you met Wendy, but she’s a little game crazy. Every new blood she sees, she tries to recruit. It comes with being team captain I guess. Wants to keep the team spry?”

 

The cheerleader leant back against the wall and poked Irene’s shoulder.

 

“But me? I know a dancer when I see one.”

 

Irene pulled a face.

 

“But I really am not a dancer.”

 

Shrugging, Seulgi unfolded her legs and stretched them out in front of her.

 

“You’ll see.”

 

They fell into an easy silence after that, Irene turning her head to observe the field.

 

Without her permission, her eyes kept following after Wendy, watching and memorising the different ways the athlete moved and smiled, the ways her muscle rippled under the shirt and-

 

What was she doing?

 

Mortified and very glad that no one was paying attention to her checking Wendy out, Irene quickly lowered her gaze to