Archive of Our Own

1.

The first time he went to the café, it was raining. Fat droplets pattered against the pavement, drowning out Bakugou’s stream of curses. He burst into the café, soaked to the bone, and more than a little annoyed. 

“Forgot your umbrella?” Bakugou’s attention snapped toward the only other person in the café—a redheaded barista with a sly smile that suddenly made Bakugou want to run back outside. 

He grunted in response and gave a flippant eye roll. He heard the barista chuckle quietly. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Bakugou sighed, making the barista laugh again, louder this time. 

“You want something to eat? Or a drink?” he asked, flashing him that same smile. 

“Coffee. Black,” he said gruffly. The barista quirked an eyebrow at him. 

“Damn, all right.” He shrugged and turned to the coffee machine. 

The sound of the coffee machine crackling to life joined the white noise of the rain outside. The barista hummed as he worked, a quiet tune that Bakugou didn’t recognize. 

Seemingly unbothered by his presence, the barista began wiping down the counter. Briefly, Bakugou wondered if there was anyone in the back, or if they were truly alone together. Then, after another pause, he internally berated himself for thinking about that. 

“So,” the redhead started. “What were you doing outside before this—” he gestured loosely to the window, “—started.”

Bakugou shrugged. “Dropped off some books at the library,” he replied as he pulled out a chair to sit on. 

The redhead nodded. “You like reading?”

“Yeah,” he replied, a slight defensive edge creeping into his voice. The other raised his hands in surrender. Bakugou scowled.

“That’s cool, man.” He smiled. “Never been able to really get into it,” he said. “I always get a bit restless while reading.”

“Tch,” Bakugou replied. “You probably haven’t found the right book, then,” he said.

The barista paused what he was doing when he heard this. He looked at Bakugou again, something different in the way his gaze landed on him. “Maybe.” Bakugou nodded numbly in response. 

“I’m Kirishima,” the barista spoke.

“Name’s Bakugou,” he replied. Kirishima continued looking at him in that way; he couldn’t guess what was going through the other’s head at the moment, but whatever it was, Bakugou secretly hoped it was about him.

“So,” Kirishima drawled, having set his rag to the side. The action seemed to be his way of telling Bakugou he had his full attention. “What do you do?”

“‘M a writer,” Bakugou replied easily. Kirishima narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion, a sneaky smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Of books?” he inquired. When Bakugou nodded, he asked, “You think you’ve written anything I’d like?” he asked.

Bakugou saw where he was going with the conversation. He offered him a nonchalant shrug. “Maybe.”

Kirishima laughed and walked out from behind the counter. He considered Bakugou for a split second, then grabbed the chair across from Bakugou and turned it around, before sitting down and wrapping his arms around the back of the chair. 

“That defeats the fucking purpose of the back of the chair,” he pointed out.

Kirishima snorted. “But it’s a great armrest,” he replied, a playful smirk making its way onto his face.

Damn this guy was going to be the death of him, Bakugou thought. “Whatever, Shitty Hair.”

Kirishima just kept on smiling, slowly prodding Bakugou over and over again with questions. 

And surprisingly, Bakugou found himself slipping into the conversation easily, not having to force himself to engage at all. Kirishima’s presence was comforting, and even though he was still dripping water on the tiled floor, he found himself the most relaxed he’d been all week.

2.

A foggy morning had faded into a foggy afternoon, and Bakugou’s mood had only dampened as the day had progressed. 

He’d awoken from his nap to an email from his editor, who’d finally finished leaving notes on his last draft. He’d spent a good five minutes reading through pages of notes and edits before he’d lost his patience and left his apartment to go clear his head.

The park by his apartment was typically quite picturesque, a fairly large expanse of forest and open grass open to the public. There were a few easy hiking trails, most of which led to the riverside at the edge of the city. Most of the larger clearings were almost always filled with people during weekends, but Bakugou knew of a few nice spots that were usually empty.

But today, the park was quiet, the fog making it look like a set from a horror movie. It wasn’t yet dark out, but the sun had already begun to make its descent, shrouding some areas of the park in shadows.

Bakugou didn’t mind though. If anything, the scenery only gave him more ideas on how to flesh out the descriptions in his novel. 

He let his feet lead him along; he’d walked these trails enough that he didn’t have to put much thought into navigating them. 

The ground was soft today, not cracked and dry like it had been a few months ago. Spring had injected new life into the land, and Bakugou enjoyed watching the liveliness of last year’s summer return to the park. It wasn’t quite summer yet; the air was still crisp and cool, and mornings were still a bit chilly. But it was getting there.

A rustle behind him caught his attention. “Aha, it is you!” Bakugou had exactly half a second to wonder what was happening before an arm looped around his shoulder like it belonged there and another body sidled up against his.

Normally, Bakugou would be punching the hell out of whoever dared to do something remotely close to that, but he realized at the last possible moment just who he’d be punching. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. 

“Same as you, I guess—just taking a walk!” Bakugou raised an eyebrow at him. “Wanted to see what this place looked like when it’s all foggy like this,” he said. “It’s kinda peaceful, don’t you think?”

“Sure.” Bakugou snorted. “I’ve never seen you on these trails before,” he stated. Kirishima hummed in response. 

“I just moved to this part of the city a couple months ago,” he replied. “It’s closer to work and my friends.”

“Of course you did,” Bakugou muttered. Kirishima laughed, the sound piercing the once-quiet air.

“Aw, come on dude, we can actually meet up more now!”

“We’ve never ‘met up,’” Bakugou responded instantly. “I just come in for coffee sometimes.”

“I dunno man, you’re basically a regular at this point,” Kirishima replied. “Even Mina’s memorized your order, and she only works part-time.”

“That’s because it’s just a medium black fucking coffee. Anyone who can’t remember that needs to get their brain checked.” Kirishima laughed.

“We get a lot of customers, dude, can’t remember everyone’s.” He smiled at Bakugou. “You’re pretty hard to forget though,” he said.

Bakugou averted his eyes quickly, trying not to let his mind wander at the implications of that last statement. He was reading too much into things. It was a bad habit of his, probably caused by his writing. 

“So, you live near here, right?” Bakugou quirked an eyebrow at the redhead.

“Why, you stalking me or some shit?” he said.

Kirishima chuckled. “You said you’d never seen me here before, so you obviously come here a lot.”

Bakugou grunted, kicking absently at a pebble. “Moved here after college,” he said. “Far enough away from any fuckers who’d know me but still in the city.”

Kirishima cocked his head to the side at that response. “You’re not much of a people person, are you?” he asked. Bakugou glared at him tiredly.

“What, did you just figure that out now?” he asked. 

Kirishima hummed in thought. “At first I thought it was just me,” he said. “And then you were the same to Mina when you were ordering that one time.” He glanced at Bakugou again, holding his gaze for a second longer. “You don’t hate everyone as much as you seem to want them to think, though,” he said.

“Fuck no, I hate everyone,” Bakugou replied. Kirishima chuckled. 

“I don’t think we’d be talking like this if you did,” he pointed out. Bakugou huffed, shoving a hand into his pocket. 

“I don’t hate you as much,” Bakugou finally decided. Kirishima beamed. 

“Aw, I like you too, Bakugou!”

Bakugou spluttered, his palms suddenly sweaty. “Wh—I didn’t say that!” Kirishima continued grinning triumphantly.

“You implied it,” Kirishima replied. He met Bakugou’s gaze confidently, daring him to deny it.

Bakugou didn’t. 

“So,” Kirishima started. “Are you finally gonna accept my friend request on Instagram?” Bakugou glared at him in response, but he knew Kirishima would open his phone later that night to find his follower count higher than it had been the night prior.

3. 

It was one of those days that Bakugou absolutely hated—snow and rain on their own were bad enough, but today, Mother Nature couldn’t seem to make up her mind and had decided to unleash an ungodly combination of both on the city. The sidewalks were covered in a dark slush, with a few frozen patches here and there. 

Thankfully, today he’d remembered to bring his umbrella. It wasn’t too far of a walk to the library, but he wanted to spend as little time out in this weather as possible. 

As expected, not many people were in the library because of the weather. There were a few students from the local high school grouped near the computers and a librarian at the counter, but otherwise, the library was vacant. 

Bakugou sighed and reached into his backpack. The canvas of the bag was wet, despite his attempts to shield it with his umbrella. Bakugou grabbed the plastic bag he’d used to protect his library books from the elements and fished out the books. From his wallet, he pulled out his library card and set it on top of the stack of books.

“Back again, Bakugou?” the librarian asked. 

“Yeah,” he replied, sliding the books and his library card across the counter for her to scan. She hummed in response. 

“You know, I think we finally got a copy of your last book if you wanna look,” she told him. She punched something into her computer, then pointed loosely toward the fiction section. 

Bakugou shrugged. Shooting a glance over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of the weather outside. It didn’t seem any more appealing than it had when he’d arrived. “Sure,” he said. 

As she finished scanning the books back in, he headed toward the shelf she’d pointed at. He located his name easily. Of his three books, two were on the shelf, and there was a space where the third had been taken from. 

Bakugou ran a finger down the spine of his latest book—so far, sales of it had been better than they had been for the other two, though Bakugou wasn’t sure whether he should attribute that to the fact that his name was becoming more well known or because more people were interested in the book itself. He hoped it was both.

Carefully, he slid the book out and began thumbing through it absentmindedly, marveling at how different the chapters printed on the page were from his original first drafts. 

“Blasty?” 

Bakugou didn’t need to look to know who’d spoken, but he did anyway. Kirishima flashed a grin at him. “Hey, Shitty Hair.” Bakugou nodded in acknowledgment. “Thought you didn’t like reading,” he said.

Kirishima laughed, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah, uh, I thought I’d finally try and find a book to read since the weather’s kinda—” he pointed at the window, “—you know.”

Bakugou raised an eyebrow. “Find anything good?”

Kirishima shrugged and held up a familiar book. “This one’s pretty entertaining,” he said, not noticing the amused look on Bakugou’s face.

“Really?” Bakugou asked. 

Kirishima laughed lightly. “I’m probably not the best judge of books since I haven’t read too many, but I like the beginning action. It’s interesting so far.” He shrugged again. “Only up to chapter three though,” he said. “Have you read it?” he asked, a curious look on his face.

Bakugou snorted. “Flip to the inside back cover,” he told him. Kirishima’s eyes went comically wide, and Bakugou had to stop himself from breaking out in peals of laughter.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima said. Bakugou snuck a glance at the picture of himself printed on the inside back cover. Not a bad picture of himself, he supposed, though it had been several years since it was taken. 

“Yeah,” Bakugou said, crossing his arms. An amused smile tugged at his lips. 

“Guess you were right about needing to find the perfect book,” Kirishima chuckled. Bakugou felt his cheeks heat up at that. “I gotta get a library card now,” he said. “Haven’t had one of those in a while.”

Bakugou snorted. “Good luck with that, Shitty Hair.” Kirishima smiled.

“So, uh, are you just here looking at your books?” he questioned, gesturing toward the book in his hand. Bakugou shrugged.

“Nah, just waiting for the weather to clear up,” he replied. He glanced back out the window.

“Probably gonna be a while then,” Kirishima said knowingly. “Want some company?” he offered.

“Tch,” Bakugou said. “Sure.” He turned back to the shelf and plucked a book he remembered liking off of it. He had a feeling Kirishima wouldn’t let him read in silence, but he didn’t really mind. 

Bakugou took a seat at one of the tables and Kirishima grinned. The redhead tugged his chair a bit closer to Bakugou’s, before taking a seat next to him. It was closer than Bakugou would normally like sitting next to someone, but the content smile on Kirishima’s face made him do things he’d normally hate.

Bakugou had yet to figure out what was so alluring about Kirishima, but he was fine with that, so long as they could keep having moments like this.

4.

There was something intriguing about thunderstorms, how they could be overwhelmingly terrifying to some and peaceful to others. Bakugou had never been a fan of most storms, but he minded thunderstorms less than regular ones. If Mother Nature was going to rain on someone’s parade, he appreciated that she went all out, blotting out the blue sky with heavy clouds and streaks of white and yellow lightning. 

What he didn’t appreciate, however, was when said storm took out the power to his building. 

Left to sit alone in the dark, Bakugou flopped onto his bed and tried to take a nap. The storm would probably continue for a while, and the power wouldn’t be restored until after the worst of it had subsided.

Two hours later, the storm had calmed slightly, though it was still raining. Bakugou rummaged through his cabinets, searching for batteries for his flashlight. 

Nothing. He sighed and glanced outside, deciding whether it was worth it or not to run down to the local convenience store and buy some. It would be sunset soon, and the last vestiges of natural light would fade, leaving him to wallow in darkness until someone fixed the power.

Well, it wasn’t like he could do anything else in the meantime, he thought, slanting a glance at his dead laptop. The power had gone out mere minutes after he’d plugged it in to charge. He hadn’t been very happy about that.

Shrugging on a jacket, he grabbed an umbrella and made his way downstairs. No one else was outside, it seemed, unless he simply couldn’t see them in the dark. He sighed, clutching his umbrella close. 

The walk was peaceful, in a way. Icy droplets pattered down on the pavement softly. Splash. Splash. Splash. The wind wove through the streets in an almost merciful manner, not breaking or tossing anything around, simply sweeping through, exploring the city. 

The door clattered as he entered, the wind making it fall back into the doorway faster than it should. Bakugou sighed, lowering his umbrella. The store was mostly empty, but a familiar cashier flippantly waved at him. The power to the store wasn’t out, so he assumed the blackout had just been on his block.

He walked down the aisle, his boots squeaking against gray tiles.

Grabbing two packs of batteries, he sighed. Bakugou glanced around, trying to remember whether he needed anything else while he was here.

A loud slam of the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He heard a familiar chuckle, followed by an apology for the noise. 

“Shitty Hair,” Bakugou greeted. Kirishima’s eyes widened.

“Oh, hey dude!” The redhead waved with the hand not holding his umbrella. “Didn’t think anyone else would be out in this weather,” he laughed.

“Yeah, neither did I.”

Kirishima sidled up to him, close enough that their elbows nudged against each other. Bakugou wondered if he just didn’t have a sense of personal space, or if he somehow knew Bakugou didn’t mind when it was him. 

“Hey, um, I was gonna text you this morning to ask but I kinda forgot,” Kirishima started. “Mina’s hosting a party thing Saturday night, and it would be great if you came.” He smiled warmly at Bakugou.

“Tch,” Bakugou replied. “Not much of a party person.” Kirishima deflated slightly.

“Oh—okay, it—”

“I’ll go,” Bakugou cut in. “Gimme the address.”

“Really?” Bakugou rolled his eyes at the redhead’s question. Kirishima beamed, and rattled off an address, promising to also text it to him later.

Bakugou never went to parties. Not voluntarily, at least. They’d never piqued his interest, striking him as a waste of time. But part of him wanted to know more about Kirishima, wanted to know more about his life outside of their random encounters. 

“Hey, Bakugou,” Kirishima said. Bakugou met the other’s gaze. 

“What?” he asked, keeping his voice level, though he was definitely curious. The hum of the store’s heater filled his ears, suddenly—he wasn’t sure if it had been on the whole time, but now he couldn’t get the sound out of his head. He was acutely aware of how it mingled with the white noise of the rain outside.

Kirishima shook his head slightly as if to snap himself out of something. 

“Never mind.”

The dismissal hung in the air for a quiet second. Kirishima scratched the back of his neck nervously. Bakugou studied him for a second, wondering what was going through the redhead’s mind. He wondered why he cared so much about the words Kirishima had withheld from him. 

“What?” he asked, surprising himself. He never cared about these things. Why did he care?

“Oh, don’t worry about it man, it’s nothing.” Kirishima smiled, a hint of tiredness lacing his voice. “It’s stupid,” he mumbled. Bakugou nudged him with his elbow and Kirishima startled like he’d been shocked. 

“Dumbass, I’ve never cared before when you said stupid shit.” Kirishima forced a laugh, shaking his head slightly.

“I know, I know,” he said. “Just—” He took a breath. “I’ll tell you eventually, don’t worry,” he promised. Bakugou narrowed his eyes at him but knew that was the end of it.

“You’d better,” he warned.

Kirishima smiled, this one a bit freer than the other. “Yeah, I will.”

5.

To say it was hot was an understatement. Bakugou was practically baking in the unforgiving summer heat. Not a cloud in sight, with no signs of cooling anytime soon. Bakugou usually didn’t mind the heat too much. But even he had a limited tolerance for the blistering heat, and the humidity wasn’t helping either. 

When he’d checked the weather that morning, he’d merely shrugged, telling himself it would be fine to do his usual run around the park in the noon heat. And though the weather wouldn’t make him skimp on his exercise, it definitely put him off a bit.

So, here he was, stubbornly making his third lap around the perimeter of the park. He panted and paused for a moment and reached for his water bottle. He chugged the last dregs of precious liquid. 

He groaned, realizing he still had three more laps left and those would be torturous without water.

“Damn it,” he huffed. 

He could finish the lap, at least, but he should probably go buy some more water before he continued.

A few minutes later, Bakugou was trudging toward the gas station not too far from the entrance to the park. 

He sighed, the cool air from the fridges instantly hitting him as he walked in. The place smelled a bit like old crackers and discount car air fresheners, but he could look past that if only for the refreshing temperature.

Bakugou wrenched open a fridge, about to grab a bottle of water, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A flash of red, nothing too unusual, except Bakugou had become acquainted enough with that particular shade of scarlet that his mind instantly attuned to it on sight. 

“Shitty Hair?” he asked, stepping closer to the aisle.

“Oh!” Kirishima beamed. “Hey, Blasty!” The redhead was flushed as if he’d just come from a workout himself. It shouldn’t be legal for him to look that attractive, Bakugou griped inwardly. “What are you doing here? I thought you usually ran around this time.”

Bakugou raised an eyebrow and held up the bottle of water. “Too fucking hot,” he replied.

Kirishima laughed. “Yeah.” He hummed in thought. “I mean, I know we’re not supposed to meet up until later, but if you’re not doing anything…” he trailed off.

Bakugou shrugged. “I still got a couple rounds to make,” he said. 

“Can I come?” Kirishima asked. Bakugou raised an eyebrow. 

“You want to go run in this weather with me,” he deadpanned. Kirishima shrugged.

“Hey man, I got nothing better to do.” He smiled. “And besides, it’s easier for me to just tag along now instead of having to find each other again later.”

They’d never had trouble finding each other in the past, Bakugou thought. He glanced again at Kirishima, who had a hopeful look on his face. But he wouldn’t mind the company, even though runs were usually time for himself alone. 

“Fine,” he replied. 

“Sweet!” Kirishima said. “Hey, pass me a bottle of water,” he asked. Bakugou did as he asked, tossing him a bottle. Kirishima rolled it back and forth between his palms a few times before going up to the counter to pay.

Bakugou watched Kirishima, the beginnings of a small smile tugging at his lips. There wasn’t anything particularly special about the moment, nothing at all. But Kirishima was special enough to make up for the blandness of the situation. 

After paying, the two of them exited the store. The walk back to the park was short, and Kirishima filled it with a rant about how frustrating it was to watch Kaminari pine after his coworker.

“I’m pretty sure Mina’s gonna end up telling Shinsou soon if Kami doesn’t confess soon,” he joked. 

“Tch,” Bakugou replied. “Black Eyes could probably come up with a better confession than Dunce Face anyway.”

Kirishima giggled, and though it wasn’t a conventionally attractive sound, it was still enough to make Bakugou smile. 

“She threatened to confess for me as well,” Kirishima started, before abruptly pausing. Bakugou raised an eyebrow at him, but Kirishima just laughed it off, changing the topic hastily. Bakugou let him.

The two continued talking as they made their way around the perimeter of the park. It was peaceful, in a way that was different from the silent hours he spent at home writing that he usually craved. Yet, Bakugou enjoyed it all the same, committing the cheerful lilt of Kirishima’s voice to memory. 

After they finished, Kirishima sighed and slumped against the sturdy trunk of a tree. He gulped down some of his water, though just as much water spilled down the sides of his mouth and onto his red tee. Kirishima just grinned and slapped the ground next to him a few times, an invitation to sit. Bakugou obliged easily.

“That was good,” Kirishima said, still a bit breathless. “I should tag along more often.”

Bakugou shrugged. “You can if you want to,” Bakugou replied, not an explicit invitation, just an assurance that Bakugou hadn’t hated the experience. 

“Hey, Bakugou.” Kirishima twisted the cap of his water bottle absentmindedly.

“Yeah?” he replied, shooting a glance at the redhead. Kirishima chewed on his lip for a split second, eyes locking with Bakugou’s. 

Kirishima suddenly shot to his feet and bolted, yelling, “Race you to the hiking trail!” Bakugou blinked in surprise for a second, but quickly clambered to his feet and sprinted after him.

When he finally caught up to Kirishima, both of them were out of breath and panting. Despite Kirishima only challenging him to reach the hiking trail, they raced until they were forced to stop at the riverside. 

“I win,” Bakugou proclaimed triumphantly. 

“Really? I thought I got here a sec earlier,” he challenged him, smiling teasingly. His eyes were alight with glee, and Bakugou was sure his were no different.

Bakugou rolled his eyes before turning to look out at the water. 

“It’s really nice here,” Kirishima commented. He hummed in agreement.

Bakugou felt Kirishima’s gaze on him. He turned, posing the silent question. Kirishima laughed sheepishly.

“You’re not subtle,” Bakugou told him bluntly. Kirishima’s eyes widened slightly. “If you’ve got something to say to me, then say it.”

Kirishima sighed and was silent for a second. “Guess I need to work on my acting, huh?” he said.

Bakugou clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Nah,” he said. Kirishima shot him a curious look. “Not a fan of liars, Shitty Hair,” he scoffed. “You’re fine as you are.”

Kirishima smiled. “Thanks, dude.”

Bakugou prodded him with his elbow impatiently. “So?”

Kirishima laughed lightly. “Never seen you so interested in other people’s stuff before,” he remarked.

“I can deal with yours,” Bakugou replied. Something softened in Kirishima’s eyes. He took a tentative step closer. Bakugou subconsciously edged a bit closer as well, so that he was close enough that he could stretch out his fingers and touch Kirishima if he tried.

Kirishima quietly hummed in thought. “Sorry, I kinda suck at talking about things like this,” he murmured.

He shot a glance over at Kirishima, whose face was slowly beginning to redden. He might’ve been able to pass it off as a side effect from the running they’d just done, if not for the way he was watching Bakugou.

“Tch,” he dismissed. “You don’t need to talk to get a point across.” He silently hoped Kirishima would understand what he was asking. 

Of course, Kirishima did. He’d always been like that, Bakugou thought, as he suddenly found himself flush against the redhead, a soft sigh escaping his lips. A calloused hand reached forward to cup his jawline ever so softly. 

Kirishima’s eyes were beautiful, Bakugou decided, not for the first time. He looked at Bakugou, a silent question in his eyes. Bakugou rolled his eyes and closed the distance between them. 

+1.

Mornings were soft with Kirishima.

As Bakugou watched the sun emerge from the horizon line, he heard a quiet scuffle of footsteps behind him. His boyfriend, still bleary-eyed with sleep and dressed in pajamas, offered him a sweet smile. Bakugou scooted over so Kirishima had room to stand beside him.

“Forecast says the weather’s gonna be nice today,” Kirishima remarked, lightly rapping his knuckles against the cool metal of the balcony railing.

“Yeah?”

Kirishima hummed in confirmation. “Supposed to be the best day of the week,” he said. Bakugou nodded. 

“You wanna do something then?” Bakugou asked, absentmindedly reaching forward to entwine their fingers together. 

Kirishima leaned his head on Bakugou’s shoulder lightly. “Later,” he promised. 

The sky came alive in front of them, large swaths of colors blending into each other to form something indescribably gorgeous. Somewhere above them, a bird warbled its excitement, a lilting song that the gentle breeze carried along. 

Eventually, the rest of the city would fully awaken as well, and the silence would be filled with a familiar hum as people went about their daily routines. Eventually, the sky would fade to its trademark blue, which would inevitably be shielded by a smattering of clouds in some areas.

The world kept turning, in spite of the individual stories that were beginning or ending at the same time. In every moment, someone’s story was shifting in some way, possibly because of something they did, possibly because of something someone else did. Or perhaps it was neither of the two; perhaps it was the fault of the circumstances. Souls brought together not by a single person’s will, but by the world itself.

The sun rose and set, the seasons changed, people came together and broke apart. Stories wrote themselves, slowly unfurling with time and energy. Eventually, of course, there would need to be an end. There always was. 

But that wouldn’t be today. 

Today, two souls would live and laugh, relish each moment, and remember the moments that brought them together.

And somewhere, perhaps Mother Nature herself would smile, the day perfect in a way that no one could be upset about.