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Shoppers flow around Kei as he squints down at a partially crumpled scrap of paper. He can’t, for the life of him, decipher his brother’s handwriting. One would think that after so many years of exposure to Akiteru’s chicken scratch, Kei would be an expert at reading it. But no. He’s left in the produce section of the grocery with no idea what he’s supposed to be getting.
“What’s next?” Yamaguchi asks as he rounds the corner back to Kei, carefully setting a netted bag of tomatoes in the shopping cart that Kei is leaning on heavily.
“Hell if I know,” Kei grumbles.
Yamaguchi arches his eyebrows before taking the shopping list from Kei’s fingers. “Strawberries,” he declares with all the confidence in the world. And he only looked at it for a couple of seconds. Yamaguchi traipses off to grab a box of strawberries after handing the list back. Looking at it now and knowing what the answer actually is, Kei has to admit that he does see the word strawberries in there. Kind of. Barely.
Kei’s pretty sure that this is half the reason Yamaguchi’s running errands with him. When Akiteru gave Kei the list earlier, he told him, “Mom needs groceries. I have to go out, so take Yamaguchi with you to the store.”
Yamaguchi wasn’t perturbed by being directly requested to run errands for a family that isn’t his own. He’s become so deeply integrated into the family that no one blinks an eye at the idea, and Kei might even say that the brunette was happy to go. A few times, the Tsukishimas have even considered giving Yamaguchi a spot on the chore list with how often he’s at their house. They ultimately decided not to — he has chores to do for his own family, and doubling that didn’t seem fair — but Yamaguchi said he wouldn’t have minded it when Kei mentioned it to him later.
And for some reason, there are some things that Yamaguchi’s better at and more familiar with within Kei’s own household. Like reading Akiteru’s handwriting.
Yamaguchi returns with a container of strawberries and a smaller one of blueberries. Kei is about to ask if Yamaguchi is hungry or something, but then he notices that blueberries are actually on the list too.
Kei frowns deeply at the list before handing it over to Yamaguchi, who holds onto it this time, clutched between careful calloused fingers. Yamaguchi leads the way to their next destination, and Kei follows closely behind, pushing the shopping cart with his arms folded on the handle. It’s comfortable in a weird, uncomfortable way, given how far he has to lean down to settle into the position.
After going through several more aisles and gathering plenty of items in the cart, the pair end up by the kitchenware.
“How many more things are on that list?” Kei asks exasperatedly. It didn’t look that long when he had it. The paper scrap itself isn’t even that big. But who knows.
“Not many. We just need—” Yamaguchi glances at the faintly lined paper, “—a couple of bowls, and then we’ll check out.” He frowns. “You need more bowls?”
Kei doesn’t respond, fully aware of the fact that he dropped and broke a bowl just the other day when he was trying to pour out cereal at the middle of the night.
Yamaguchi, unfazed by Kei’s silence, peers at the array of wares. “I guess it’s your pick,” he says. “With all of these options, I don’t know how you’ll do it.” He grins when Kei rolls his eyes.
Yamaguchi tilts his chin up and peers at the sign categorizing the aisle. His eyes dart to the left before he looks back to Kei. “I’ll be in the next aisle while you decide.” Kei nods, and Yamaguchi leaves him the cart as he darts around the corner.
Kei doesn’t think there’s much point in thinking too hard about which bowl to get. They all have the same purpose, and after a few uses, no one will be paying any attention to what they look like. Sometimes when Akiteru visits, he still uses the plastic pirate plates he pestered their parents to buy when he was in middle school.
As soon as Kei hauls a box of plain white bowls into that cart, Yamaguchi’s head pokes into the aisle, blinding grin splitting his face.
“Tsukki!” he exclaims, “Come, come here, look what I found.”
After a bit of maneuvering, Kei turns the cart around and pushes it toward Yamaguchi, who’s very clearly standing in the way.
“You’re going to get run over,” Kei warns, undeterred.
“No, I’m not,” Yamaguchi says plainly.
Unable to follow through with this particular action, Kei slows the cart as it approaches Yamaguchi and renders his warning useless. Yamaguchi places a hand on the edge of the metal cart, pulling Kei and the groceries forward smugly.
Once he has Kei where he wants him, Yamaguchi releases the cart and spins around to face one of the shelves on the aisle.
When he turns back, he’s holding a set of two mugs, one navy blue with white accents, and the other white with navy blue accents. In the center of each mug is a crescent moon with a smattering of stars dripping down from inside the moon.
“Aren’t these pretty?” Yamaguchi beams.
Kei feels as apathetic about the mugs as he does the bowls, but he can’t help but allow Yamaguchi’s excitement wash over him, seeping into his skin. “Yeah,” he says, “They’re nice.” He doesn’t tell Yamaguchi that mugs aren’t on the list. Even if he did say that, he could be wrong. It’s not like Kei can actually read the list.
“And they’re a matching set,” Yamaguchi says, “So, I just saw them, and I was thinking it’d be cool to get them! Because — I mean — Tsukki, you like blue, right? Or at least, you don’t hate it. And there’s nothing wrong with white, and the design is super nice. I think it’s repeated on the other side, but of course I can’t see that.” The box has one side of each mug exposed while the cardboard encloses everything else. “And you’ve been trying out coffee and stuff lately, right? So this is perfect. Because I did notice that you don’t have your own mug at the house. It’s just a bunch of the same mugs that everyone in the household shares. So you could have your own, and—”
“Yamaguchi,” Kei interrupts.
“Yes?” Yamaguchi squeaks.
Kei could tell Yamaguchi to shut up, but that’s already been taken care of. Plus, he doesn’t really like telling Yamaguchi to shut up anymore. Not with the frequency he did before. “You’re rambling,” he says instead.
Yamaguchi watches Kei, bewildered and clutching the box of mugs tightly to his chest. “Right. Sorry, Tsukki.”
“Which one do you want?” Kei asks, his arms drooping lazily on the shopping cart handle.
“What?”
Kei doesn’t repeat himself, just raises his eyebrows.
“Right,” Yamaguchi says again, “Yes, I—” His tongue darts out onto chapped lips, and Kei can’t help but watch. “I mean, they’re both pretty. I’m okay with either…” Kei doesn’t see why it should be such a difficult decision; they’re just mugs. But then again, there are many things that stress Yamaguchi out that Kei can’t fathom.
“You can pick later,” Kei says, gesturing for Yamaguchi to place the box in the cart. “Or if it really comes down to it, we’ll play Rock-Paper-Scissors.”
A tight-lipped smile grows on Yamaguchi’s face. But it’s not a bad one. It’s the kind of smile where Yamaguchi looks so excited and happy that maybe he forgot to pull his lips apart and expose his teeth.
—
Once they get back to Kei’s house, Yamaguchi is eager to put the groceries away so he can go on to wash the mugs.
Kei watches Yamaguchi open the box, quickly and carefully. As Yamaguchi pulls the mugs out and examines them happily before putting them down, and the base of the white mug flashes in front of Kei for a moment.
He reaches out to the mug, and Yamaguchi eyes him. Kei looks at the bottom of the mug again before turning it to Yamaguchi, whose eyes widen at the heart formed by a pattern of deep blue stars. Yamaguchi tugs the other mug close to his chest. Kei wonders if Yamaguchi was aware of the design beforehand.
“It’s fine,” Kei makes sure to tell him before Yamaguchi starts panicking. The brunette exhales quickly.
“They’re couple mugs,” Yamaguchi says.
“Well, we’re a couple,” Kei reasons. “So, that works out well.”
Yamaguchi barely bites back a smile.
Yamaguchi’s eyes flick down toward the blue mug he’s holding. “I want this one,” he decides. Kei isn’t sure if it’s a split-second decision based solely on who’s currently holding what, or if Yamaguchi wanted the blue one all along. He doesn’t question it.
“Okay,” he says. Kei pushes off the kitchen counter he was leaning on and plucks the mug from Yamaguchi’s hand before moving toward the sink. Yamaguchi comes up beside him moments after the tap starts pouring a steady flow of water onto the new kitchenware.
After washing the first mug, Kei passes it to Yamaguchi, who has a dish towel ready. They work quietly to the constant thrum of tap water on the base of the kitchen sink until Yamaguchi asks, “Can I leave mine here? At your house?”
Kei’s head doesn’t move, but his eyes cut toward Yamaguchi. One corner of his mouth quirks upward. “Sure. You’re here often enough anyway. It’ll probably get more use this way.”
Yamaguchi laughs before thanking him.
It’s strangely intimate, Kei thinks, Yamaguchi leaving a mug at the Tsukishima house. It’s like a promise. A promise that they’ll continue to spend an excessive amount of time together. They’ve never done anything this romantic before, even though it’s such a quiet gesture.
Not even the start of their relationship was particularly romantic. And after that, not much changed between them since they were already so close. They hold hands now; that changed. But there hasn’t been anything explicitly couple-y.
Kei’s eyelashes dust his cheek as he thinks about this. His hands are still wet, so he hangs them over the sink even though he’s done washing wares. Kei turns his head toward Yamaguchi and watches as the freckled boy gingerly runs the dish towel around the mug’s handle.
Yamaguchi puts the mug down on the counter, and Kei carefully plucks the rag from his hands. As Kei dries his hands, Yamaguchi carries the mugs to the cupboard where the other, plainer mugs reside.
Ceramic clinks dully against the wood cupboard, and when Kei turns to where his new piece of kitchenware sits, he has to admit that it’s satisfying to see. The white and blue mugs stand out against all the brown and black coffee mugs that no one can tell apart. Everyone will know whose mugs these are.
Yamaguchi beams as he shuts the cupboard gently, and it must rub off on him because Kei finds himself smiling too.
—
The next morning, Yamaguchi is at Kei’s doorstep much earlier than is necessary, as is their Monday routine. When Kei opens the door, Yamaguchi greets him around a wide yawn.
Once they’re inside, Kei’s mom already has breakfast ready for the two of them.
Kei watches Yamaguchi blink his grogginess away when he sees a steaming mug beside his plate. Yamaguchi looks between Kei and the navy blue mug adorned with the moon and stars. Its pair in inverted colors sits across from it at Kei’s breakfast.
“Hot chocolate,” Kei says by means of explanation as he sits. Yamaguchi doesn’t drink coffee, so the chocolate covered in marshmallows is the next best use for his mug.
Yamaguchi blinks at the drink twice more before hurrying to take his seat, as if the mug will sprout legs and abandon him if he takes too long.
Watching over his own mug as Yamaguchi turns pink and smiles like an idiot as he drinks his hot chocolate, Kei can’t help the fondness filling him, sitting in his stomach all warm and fuzzy. He can say with certainty that these mugs will get a lot of use. They’ll probably become his favorite things in the kitchen.
Maybe, Kei thinks, they should do these little, tiny, quiet romantic gestures more.