Chapter Text
The boutique was brighter than the old department store had been.
Cleaner lines. Better lighting. Fewer fluorescent buzzes and more curated playlists. Hiiragi stood near the rack with his arms folded, pretending he wasn’t already picturing Mafuyu in three different outfits.
Mafuyu emerged from the fitting room curtain wearing a black tee with a subtle gold Pisces constellation printed across the chest.
Hiiragi exhaled slowly.
“Turn,” he said.
Mafuyu did, compliant but faintly amused.
The shirt skimmed him just right — not tight, but intentional. The black jeans sat low on his hips, fitted enough to outline long legs without trying too hard.
Hiiragi stepped forward and tugged lightly at the waistband.
“New black jeans,” he said approvingly. “Higher quality this time.”
Mafuyu looked down. “They feel sturdy.”
Hiiragi’s hand slid down and he gave him a playful swat on the backside.
“Also,” he added, completely serious, “makes your butt even cuter.”
Mafuyu blinked at him.
Then — that small, rare smile.
“You’re impossible.”
“And we’re still a unit,” Hiiragi said, leaning in to steal a kiss before Mafuyu could protest.
The changing room curtain swayed faintly from the movement. Hiiragi didn’t care. Ten years ago he would have looked around first. Now he simply pressed his mouth to Mafuyu’s with quiet ownership — not possessive, but certain.
Mafuyu’s hand rested lightly at his waist.
“More than ever,” Mafuyu murmured when they parted, briefly resting his forehead against Hiiragi’s shoulder.
Ten years ago, they had fumbled around the word dating under a futon, whispering like it might break if said too loud.
Now?
Now they built a life.
“Okay,” Hiiragi said briskly. “Next shirt.”
He held up his own: Taurus. Black with gold print.
Mafuyu tilted his head. “You already have one like that.”
“Brand consistency,” Hiiragi replied. “If we match, no one questions it. We look like we belong together.”
Mafuyu studied him for a second longer than usual.
“I don’t want people questioning it either,” he said quietly. Then, after a beat, softer but steady, “I like when they know.”
Hiiragi’s smirk faded into something warmer.
“…Good,” he said.
⸻
Lunch was at a small café across the street — warm wood tables, quiet afternoon light.
Mafuyu was halfway through his iced coffee when Hiiragi slid something across the table.
A small velvet box.
Mafuyu’s eyes widened.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
No teasing tone. Just steady.
Mafuyu set his drink down carefully and lifted the lid.
Inside was a slim gold band. Elegant. Understated. Not flashy — just intentional.
Hiiragi lifted his own left hand.
A matching band sat there already.
“I have one too,” he said. “My mom will approve. She’s always happy when we match.”
Mafuyu didn’t reach for the ring immediately.
His thumb traced the edge of the velvet box instead, slow, thoughtful.
“You’ve always moved first,” he said quietly. Not accusing. Just remembering.
Hiiragi’s expression softened.
“Relax,” he said quietly. “It’s not a proposal unless you want it to be. It’s just… us. A marker.”
“Ten years. We’ve been through enough to earn a symbol.”
Mafuyu exhaled slowly.
His gaze flickered — just briefly — somewhere distant.
Hiiragi saw it.
“…You’re thinking about Uenoyama,” he said gently.
Mafuyu didn’t deny it.
“He’ll notice,” Mafuyu said. Not anxious. Just aware.
Hiiragi leaned back, completely unruffled.
“Let me worry about Uenoyama,” he said. A faint, calculating glint entered his eyes. “I have some ideas.”
Mafuyu huffed a quiet breath that might have been a laugh.
“You’re impossible.”
“Strategic,” Hiiragi corrected.
The tension dissolved — not dismissed, just handled.
“My mom took care of you before you even knew how to ask for it,” Hiiragi added more quietly. “I’m not stopping now.”
“Foundation,” Hiiragi said. “That’s what you are to me.”
Mafuyu met his eyes.
“And you’re mine, Hiiragi added with a cheeky grin.”
No hesitation.
No softness born from uncertainty.
Just fact.
Mafuyu lifted the band carefully and slid it onto his finger. The metal was cool at first, then warmed almost instantly against his skin. It settled at the base like it had been measured for him.
He turned his hand slightly, studying it. Adjusting. Feeling the new weight.
“We’re still a unit,” Mafuyu said.
“More than ever.”
They didn’t need to say boyfriend anymore.
They didn’t need to ask what they were.
They had become something steadier than labels — something built over shared rehearsals, shared grief, shared mornings, shared stages.
Hiiragi squeezed Mafuyu’s hand once, firm and sure.
“Next year,” he said, already planning, “we upgrade to jackets.”
Mafuyu smiled, fingers brushing the ring again without thinking.
“I’ll match whatever you pick.”
And that — more than the gold, more than the theme —
was the promise.