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Haru’s face shone once again from the brightness of his phone in the dark bar. He glanced at the home screen. No new messages. It was almost 9:30pm, an hour and a half past the time he’d included when he sent out the last-minute invitation for drinks to Hoshino and the rest of his former First Division team. His typical ‘going out’ suit he’d worn countless times during his days in the Division felt loose, looser than it had when he’d left only a couple months prior. As much as he hated to admit it, he might’ve been skipping meals here and there. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. On the days he didn’t feel like getting out of bed he simply forgot. Wearing one of the few formal outfits he owned felt like a callout and Haru didn’t appreciate it. But he’d wanted to try, wished to make himself look presentable if only for one day. Turns out it was a waste.
Haru downed the rest of the amber liquid resting at the bottom of his glass, signaling for the bartender to refill it for the third time.
“Special night?” the man asked as Haru watched the fiery liquor reflect in the glass, his own amber eyes focused, unblinking. Grasping the glass with one hand, Haru checked the watch on his other one final time. May 2nd was nearing its end. A humorless chuckle escaped as he brought the glass to his lips.
“No, it’s just like any other night.”
***
Haru was digging through his closet, cursing at all the new clothes he’d somehow acquired over the last year as he tried to locate the item he was in search of. While he’d been travelling enough to not use his apartment in Tokyo nearly as often as before, he still found himself in the comfortable confines of the space at least one week out of the month. As such, he’d started using the little storage space he had as a placeholder for all the things he’d been collecting, mostly clothes, over the last year or so. The fault was no doubt Daisuke’s with his perpetual need to keep purchasing clothes for Haru, without his permission he might add. After a while Haru gave in, noticing the almost indistinguishable smile or widening of eyes from the younger man when he accepted his gifts without a fight. He had to admit it was adorable, so he resigned to his fate.
Now, however, it was annoying not being able to find the one thing he needed for this evening. As he got to the end of his line of clothes, Haru stumbled across a familiar garment bag he hadn’t looked at in more than two years. An unwanted pang rippled through Haru’s chest as he distractedly tore the garment bag off the rack and brought it to his bed. The urge to see the suit underneath was stupidly strong, Haru knew this, but it didn’t deter him from unzipping the bag anyway.
Inside was a simple two-piece black suit, nothing special. It smelled of moth balls and something Haru refused to acknowledge as he picked up the jacket and sized it up. Haru already had his newly pressed white button down on, so with swift movements, he shrugged his arms into the jacket and over his shoulders. To Haru’s surprise, the jacket was snug, in particular around his shoulders and upper arms. While it did button around the waist, it was snugger than was fashionably acceptable, at least to Haru. A warm feeling filled Haru, soft but noticeable, as he realized how important it was that this jacket, once loose and an indication of his trauma and depression, was now snug from the healing, training, and eating he’d been doing this past year.
As Haru turned around to look at himself in the floor-length mirror Daisuke insisted on keeping at the apartment, he saw the very same man standing in the doorway, keys dangling from his finger and garment bag in the other, as he gave Haru an unimpressed once over.
“Please tell me you’re not wearing that tonight. It’s at least two sizes too small. Why do you even have it, I have never seen it.” Haru wanted to laugh at Daisuke’s typical unabashed forwardness. Of course he’d have no idea why he still had his First Division suit, but it didn’t matter. Haru was happy, for some reason loved this man with no filter. So, instead of replying right away, Haru shrugged off the suit jacket and strode up to Daisuke, bringing him in for a soft kiss.
“Hello to you too, Dai,” he said with a twinge of playful sarcasm. When they separated, Haru eyed the garment bag in Daisuke’s hand with a frown. “That isn’t new, is it?”
“No, it’s your tan suit. You said you wanted to wear it?” Haru’s eyes went comically wide at the realization.
“Shit, it was with you? I’ve been looking for it for the last ten minutes.” Haru watched as Daisuke tilted his body to the side as if to get a better look at the small closet behind Haru.
“It took you ten minutes to go through that small of a closet?”
“Shut up.” There was no malice in Haru’s tone as he took the suit from Daisuke’s hand and proceeded to dress himself. After another ten minutes of Haru finishing getting ready and Daisuke sitting quietly, silently watching, Haru finally stepped in front of the younger man with a beaming smile. “Ready to go?” Daisuke was silent for a moment, staring. Instead of his usual smirk, Daisuke was smiling softly, his eyes slightly hooded.
“Not yet,” he said, standing. “You are in need of one crucial thing.” Haru was about to question Daisuke when he stepped forward, wrapped his arm around Haru’s waist, and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Haru didn’t protest, only leaned into Daisuke further, basking in the way his soft lips felt against his own. It was this moment that contributed to the way Haru couldn’t stop smiling, a soft blush dusting his cheeks as their mouths disconnected and they got a chance to really see each other.
“Are you ready to go now?” A soft chuckle left Haru’s lips as Daisuke raised a hand and brushed it against the older man’s heated cheek.
“Mm,” Daisuke hummed in contented agreement, finally letting his hand fall and making his way to the door. Following, Haru almost ran into Daisuke when he abruptly stopped before leaving.
“What is it?” Haru followed Daisuke’s eyes, noticing them staring at the offending, ill-fitting jacket now laying on the bed.
“You should burn that.” If Haru wasn’t mistaken, there was the smallest hint of menace in Daisuke’s tone. The moment was gone as soon as it came, though, and when Daisuke held out his hand for Haru to take, he forgot about it. There were more important things to focus on tonight.
***
By the time Haru and Daisuke stopped in front of the nondescript bar, black painted wood encasing the entrance and gold script indicating its name, night had already fallen. Haru glanced up at the familiar signage. At the time Haru viewed this bar as high class, but after traveling with Daisuke he quickly realized this was at best middle range. He wanted to laugh at himself; how far he’d come with his ultra-rich boyfriend.
“Please explain to me again why your one request for your birthday was to go to this specific bar?” Daisuke was staring at the same entrance, face slightly weary of the impending subpar quality awaiting him inside. Haru laughed, a lighthearted, genuine laugh that surprised even himself given the circumstances. If he was being honest, he didn’t really have a reason for wanting to come back to this bar, the very location that, three years ago, he realized he’d lost both his dream career and former friends. Haru had been at his lowest, drinking to forget, to tame the nightmares, to get through each day. He very rarely chose to think of those former days.
Today, however, Haru felt different, lighter somehow. He knew it was because of the man standing beside him, comically put off by the quality of this bar that would be considered high quality to any normal person. Daisuke was an infuriating person. He continuously refused to listen to Haru, couldn’t cook for the life of him, and spent money as if it was expendable (which it was for him). But Daisuke was so much more than that. He was unwaveringly loyal, cared deeply, and loved fiercely. He was adorable under the care of Haru and he never ceased to make Haru’s heart melt when he chose to show his vulnerability.
It was, in part, these reasons why Haru felt the sudden need to go back to this bar after three years of struggling to come to terms with his past. Daisuke had no idea, not about why they were here. He knew enough of Haru’s trauma and past to understand what he’d been through, but this specific memory was lost to him. Haru intended to keep it that way. Not because he wished to hide it from the younger man, but more so because he was intent on changing the way he viewed this memory, this location.
Not wanting to just stand outside any longer, Haru ignored Daisuke’s question, instead grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the entrance.
“You didn’t answer…” Huffing in annoyance, Haru turned around, carded his fingers through Daisuke’s hair, and kissed him. It wasn’t long and he didn’t push for more, but it was enough to knock the breath out of Daisuke in front of the bar.
Pulling back, he whispered, “Let’s go inside, yeah?” This time when Haru pulled Daisuke along, the younger man didn’t resist, either pretending to be surprised by the kiss and playing along or actually being flustered. Either way, they made their way through the door.
Inside, it was dark and sensual. Hues of deep red and mahogany wood covered the room. The lighting did little to brighten the room and soft piano music wound its way through the small space. Haru thought it would be harder; harder to remember the past, harder to sit at the same bar where he’d been at his lowest, harder to accept a location that threatened to dig up painful memories. Yet here he was, hand still intertwined with Daisuke’s, heart thudding slightly faster from the thrill of why he was doing this instead of what this bar symbolized for him. There was no pain, no anger, only appreciation for everything that he’d been through in order to get to this point. Daisuke didn’t know why they were here, but Haru couldn’t deny that his presence was exactly what he needed at times like these.
With another beaming smile, Haru led the two to the mahogany bar and called for the bartender. Once Daisuke took off his suit jacket and sat down, Haru noticed a small rectangular present wrapped in gold and black paper, the Kambe family symbol stamped on the front.
“Oh no. No, no, no.” Haru was glaring at Daisuke, but all that came by way of an explanation was a soft chuckle.
“I promise I didn’t spend any money. You said no spending money on you, never that I couldn’t still give you a gift.” Haru continued to glare, knowing that Daisuke was the king of loopholes and he most likely gifted him some house or island or car that he already owned. If that was the case, he’d surely reject it. But something about the way Daisuke’s smile softened his eyes reassured Haru and, for now, dropped the topic in favor of soaking in the warmth that this moment brought him.
When the bartender made his rounds, Haru ordered his favorite whiskey while Daisuke opted for a sweet red wine. There was a comfortable silence surrounding the two as they nursed their drinks, listening to the soft piano music fill the room and enjoying each other’s company in a way that wasn’t often afforded to them. Their daily lives were consumed with cases, paperwork, travelling and more, rarely giving the couple a moment’s rest. Rarer yet were the times when their free time synchronized. Haru knew that Daisuke had pulled some strings (and used his money) to make sure they had a few consecutive days off for his birthday and for once in his life Haru wasn’t annoyed by it. He wanted to spend this time with Daisuke, fill these days with new memories that slowly replaced older, broken ones. Being in this bar should’ve reminded Haru of his dark past, but having Daisuke by his side, smiling and slowly inching closer, made him realize just how lucky he was.
It was Haru who finally broke the silence, wrapping his arm around Daisuke’s waist and squeezing.
“You know, there are a lot of things I regret,” he started, staring into the amber liquid in favor of getting too emotional staring into Daisuke’s eyes, “but I will never regret opening myself up to you.” Haru somehow found the courage to glance up at Daisuke when he didn’t get a response right away, meeting soft cerulean orbs staring back. “I don’t think…I can’t thank you enough for—” Haru wasn’t able to finish his thanks as Daisuke cupped his hand under his ear and around the side of his neck before pulling him into a soft, lingering kiss. Haru didn’t protest, but he could feel his cheeks heat at the very obvious public display of affection. When Daisuke pulled away, keeping his arm around Haru’s shoulder, a soft smile formed from his slightly reddened lips.
“There is no reason to thank me, Haru. Your happiness is what matters.” Daisuke wasn’t one to normally express himself through words, but then again neither was Haru. His kiss was an expression of his love, and even though Haru only wished to keep trying to explain to the younger man what he meant to him, there was no use in trying; Daisuke already knew.
Instead, they relaxed yet again into their seats, arms now resting around each other as they sipped at their drinks.
“So, are you going to tell me why you’re being so secretive about this bar or am I just going to have to ask HEUSC?” Surprising himself, Haru laughed. He knew even the most thorough research wouldn’t reveal why Haru wanted to come here tonight, but he realized that Daisuke probably deserved to know. He was a part of this memory, after all, and there was no one Haru trusted more with his life than Daisuke Kambe, a statement he would’ve scoffed at barely a year ago. When Haru opened his mouth to reply, however, a small, pleasant jingle started ringing in Haru’s ear.
“What…”
“Looks like it’s finally midnight, officially your birthday.” Haru wanted to tease Daisuke for setting an alarm for the moment midnight struck, but the moment didn’t call for it. “Happy birthday, love,” Daisuke included, a genuine, beautiful smile spreading across his face as he raised his glass.
“Thanks, baby.” Daisuke scrunched his nose slightly at the pet name, but didn’t comment further. Instead, they clinked glasses and drank. This truly was the biggest change Haru could’ve experienced in only three years’ time and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
As the two finished their drinks and prepared to head out for the night, Haru realized he’d completely forgotten about his phone sitting beside him until the constant vibrating was too prominent to ignore.
“Who the hell is trying to reach me so late…” When Haru glanced down at the screen, the contrasting bright light momentarily blinding him, he saw fifteen unread messages from various people—the MCPTF, family, clients-turned-friends—all wishing him a happy birthday. For a brief moment, Haru was still, could feel the telltale sting of not-quite-tears brimming his eyes.
“What is it?” Daisuke inquired, shrugging on his jacket and handing Haru’s over.
“Oh, just a few people wishing me a happy birthday, nothing special.” If Daisuke was as perceptive as Haru knew he was, the content smile and soft blush on Haru’s cheeks was an obvious indicator of something far from ‘nothing special’, but even if he noticed, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, Daisuke threaded his fingers through Haru’s.
“Ready to go home?” Our home.
“There is nothing I’d like more.” As they walked out of the bar, Haru stole one last glance at the memory he’d successfully salvaged with the man who salvaged everything else.