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Ash has it all planned out.
They’re supposed to be on their trip back to Izumo that they planned for next spring. They’re supposed to be sitting under the night sky. Eiji would be taking photos—of course he would—and Ash would be watching him because he loves seeing Eiji take photographs, loves seeing Eiji in his element, doing something he’s long since grown to love.
But well into the night, after Eiji checks how his photos turned out, he’s supposed to find Ash down on one knee, holding out the ring he bought years ago.
Ash has a whole speech memorized, has it painstakingly etched into his heart, repeated every single time he looks at Eiji and thinks, oh , thinks, I love him so much , thinks, I want to be with him for as long as he wants me . He’s rewritten it so much over the years, reimagined it in so many ways, but there’s one constant. It always ends the same way.
Will you marry me, Eiji?
In Ash’s head, he imagines Eiji crying. He imagines Eiji with a grin so wide that he outshines the moon and the stars and the memory of the sun. He imagines Eiji tackling him to the ground, imagines the sweet sound of yes yes of course yes whispered right into his ear.
In Ash’s head, he imagines wrapping his arms around Eiji’s middle, imagines looking up at him and being so overwhelmed because Eiji is so bright and warm and beautiful and Ash still wouldn’t know even then what someone like him has ever done to deserve someone like Eiji. He imagines breathing into Eiji’s space, whispering I love you into his lips, pulling him into a kiss that he returns.
In Ash’s head, the night of his proposal is perfect, just like Eiji deserves.
He has it all planned out.
This—standing in the middle of the grocery store two blocks away from their apartment, arguing about which potato to get—
Well, this isn’t it, obviously .
It’s Ash’s own fault, really. He keeps the ring with him at all times, even though he would have been better off finding a hiding place for it and keeping it there until spring. It isn’t like he’s worried Eiji would find it if he left it at home, it’s just that—
He just likes the reminder, he thinks. He likes the weight of it in his pocket, likes being able to reach for it at any time of the day, likes to feel the edges of the box, to feel a buzz of excitement and agitation burst in his chest at the thought of that one night in Izumo, of him on his knees, waiting for Eiji’s answer.
Ash rarely takes the ring out, but when he does, it’s usually when he’s apart from Eiji. When Eiji is at the gallery or when he’s out with Ibe and Ash is left alone in their apartment, alone but never lonely because he knows that Eiji will come home to him at the end of the day. When Ash is away for work, rare as he deigns to show himself to the public, hair hidden under a cap and green eyes hidden behind brown-colored contacts, trying to blend in, surrounded by people who only know him as the pen name he uses to publish his articles and papers online.
Ash doesn’t mean to take it out today, especially not when Eiji is right beside him, but as he takes out his phone so he can take photos of said potatoes they’re arguing about to send to Sing or Ibe or Max or all of them at once, he accidentally jostles the ring box. It falls from his pocket, and it feels like an eternity between Ash’s pocket to the floor, but somehow Ash can do nothing to stop it.
Ash must be a little rusty, because he neither catches the box before it falls to the ground nor picks it up before Eiji can see it. It’s been years since he had to fight after all, and even if he goes for a run everyday and works out regularly, it isn’t like he needs quick reflexes now that he’s settled down.
Or maybe Ash just freezes up because he has been planning this for so long, has been thinking about it for even longer. Maybe he freezes up because he can’t believe his fucking luck, because even though this might not be the worst possible time and place for Eiji to see it, it’s definitely not the best either, nor is it good.
It isn’t special enough, not what Ash has been imagining, not at all what Eiji deserves.
So Ash freezes up.
Eiji hears the clatter of the ring box as it hits the ground, just like Ash does. Eiji looks down and sees the box lying on the painted-white cement floor of the grocery store, just like Ash does.
Ash sees the exact moment Eiji realizes what it is that he’s seeing, sees the way Eiji’s expression shifts, how his knitted eyebrows slowly rise, how his mouth forms the shape of an O, how his wide eyes flicker from the box to Ash.
“Ash? Is that—” Eiji pauses, takes a deep breath. “Is that what I think it is?”
Ash swallows against the lump in his throat. His arms feel like lead hanging off his torso; his feet feel like they’re screwed to the ground, immovable. All he can seem to do is to nod, to keep his eyes on Eiji’s and not look away.
He doesn’t know what he expects Eiji to do. He doesn’t know what he wants Eiji to do.
Eiji’s face is unreadable. Eiji has always been open, always been candid with Ash; he’s never looked at Ash and seen someone to be feared, or at least, that’s the impression that Ash always got. Because of that, because of years with Eiji at his side, because Eiji allows Ash to see so much of him so openly, so free to give in his unshakeable naivete and kindness, it’s rare that Ash can’t figure out what Eiji is thinking.
It’s cruel, that this situation would be one of those rare times. Then again, maybe Ash has had too many good things happen to him the last few years, and this is the world telling him: slow down, Ash Lynx, you aren’t untouchable even now.
But it’s alright. This is fine. Ash can improvise. He’s good at that.
But then again, in a grocery store ? No matter how good Ash is improvising, there isn’t any way he can make proposing in the vegetables section of a grocery store better than proposing under the stars in Izumo where Eiji grew up.
Ash is tempted to just pick the box up, dust it off, and put it back in his pocket. He’s tempted to pretend nothing happened, to scramble for a lie that Eiji won’t believe, but—
But he doesn’t want Eiji to think he’s unsure or having second thoughts, because he isn’t. He isn’t . This is the surest Ash has ever been his entire life. Marrying Eiji isn’t another step he needs to take so much as a natural progression of his decisions, of his feelings .
He saw Eiji fly while he was still caged, and he fell in love, even if he didn’t know it yet. He asked Eiji to stay, tethered himself to Eiji and held on for as long as he could, as tight as he could. When Eiji left, he followed—even if he hadn’t meant to, Ash followed, because freedom didn’t taste as good without Eiji by his side and he quickly realized that.
Ash loves Eiji, because this world that was only cruel to him for so, so long, that plunged Ash into the darkness for most of his life, suddenly became brighter, gentler when Eiji walked into Ash’s life. Ash loves Eiji, because Eiji sees all of him and still manages to stay. Ash loves Eiji, because Eiji is brave and kind and because Eiji gives so much without any expectations of something in return.
Ash loves Eiji, and Eiji loves him back. It shouldn’t matter where they are or what time of day it is. Eiji knows that Ash has a ring. No matter how idyllic, how amazing proposing in Izumo seems, there’s no better time to propose than now.
Eiji must agree, because then, he says, “What are you waiting for, Ash?”
That , apparently.
Ash gets down on one knee. He picks up the ring box, brushes off the dirt on its velvet surface, looks up at Eiji as he opens it to show the ring he’s had for years. It’s simple, just a silver band with forever engraved on it, but it’s beautiful and Ash knows it would look even more beautiful when contrasted against Eiji’s skin.
“I wasn’t planning on proposing today,” Ash admits. He watches Eiji’s lips curl up into a smile. His heartbeat slows, little by little, but Ash doesn’t wait for it to calm down to its usual pace. “I had an entire night planned. I had an entire speech for you to hear. But that doesn’t matter now, I guess.”
Ash looks at the way Eiji’s hands are clenched into fists and pressed into his chest, and he finds comfort in it. Ash looks into Eiji’s wide eyes, wet with unshed tears, and he finds courage in it.
Ash takes a deep breath.
“Will you marry me, Eiji?”
He hasn’t even finished asking his question but already, Eiji is on him, pressing kisses all over his cheeks and his nose and his jaw until Eiji finally finds Ash’s lips and tells him, “Yes, of course I’ll marry you, Ash, yes .”
And then they’re kissing on the floor of a grocery store with strangers watching them, clapping along to the happiness, the pure elation that Ash feels bursting in his chest and spreading throughout his entire body. It’s too much, too much , but at the same time, Ash can’t get enough, doesn’t want this moment to end. He wants to stay here with the cold cement floor beneath him, and warm, bright Eiji above him, wants to stay in this moment and never forget the way he feels right now because this is the happiest he’s ever felt, happier than he ever would have thought he’d be.
But when Eiji finally pulls away, Ash is glad too. When Eiji tells him, “I love you so much,” and when Ash replies, “I love you too,” Ash is glad too.
It doesn’t matter if this is the happiest he’s ever been. As long as he’s with Eiji, he has no doubt that he’ll be this happy again, and maybe even happier.