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In the end, the wedding was pulled off without a hitch. With Goro’s fretting and nit-picking perfectionism dialed up to a hundred-and-two, how could it have not? The venue was flawlessly decorated right down to the colour schemes, the food and entertainment scheduled right on time, and the marriage ceremony itself so seamlessly organised from entrance to vows that it felt right out of a romance movie. It’s horrendous how good Goro is at his job. Akira can do nothing but be impressed.
But it’s the end of the wedding now. The guests have cleared out and the two brides have gone off for the night (they had offered to stay behind to do clean up, bless their hearts, but Goro wouldn’t hear a single word of it), and now it’s time for Akira’s least favourite part of the entire process: packing things away. Akira gazes mournfully around him. All this trash is going to take forever and a half to dispose of. And it’s not as if he can beg off of work from not being, technically, part of the wedding planner team—as Goro claims, ‘if you have the energy to demand I bring you to every single wedding I plan, you have the energy to help clean it up.’
“Boyfriend privileges” is not a habit practiced by Goro Akechi.
Honestly, it’s not as if Akira would want to slack off anyway while everybody is hard at work around him taking down decorations, sweeping floors, stacking chairs. Still, Akira makes a great show of sulking as he crosses the modestly-sized ballroom floor to go pick up a broom.
A clipboard whacks him none-too-gently on the side of his head. ‘Stop with that look on your face,’ Goro says, rolling his eyes. ‘You should’ve known that you couldn’t have just crashed a wedding for free with no payback.’
‘Wha—I do not crash any weddings, I am always there as your plus one,’ Akira protests.
‘Being a plus one isn’t a role.’
‘I disagree. I make for very good arm candy.’
Goro makes a disgusted noise, pushing Akira away from where he’d begun leaning in to make a kissy face. ‘Get your juvenile antics out of my face and go sweep the reception area,’ he barks.
Akira grins. His boyfriend’s so cute.
‘Aye-aye, sir,’ he says, but not before ducking in quick to steal a kiss from Goro anyway. Goro’s enraged squawk follows him all the way out of the door.
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It’s close to three-am by the time they’re finished. Akira and Goro are the only people left in the venue now; everybody’s already gone home, and the two of them are tasked with double-checking and accounting for every item.
Akechi consults his clipboard. ‘Are all the chairs stacked up outside and ready to be picked up by the movers tomorrow?’
‘Yep.’
‘Trash properly disposed of?’
‘Uh huh. Even sorted into recyclables, that’s how good your team is.’
‘What about the flowers.’
Akira leans over Goro’s shoulder and butts the side of his head gently. ‘The ones leftover after the guests took their share are on their way to hospitals and nursing homes as we speak.’ He squeezes Goro’s shoulders. ‘Relax, Goro—we took care of everything.’
Goro frowns, hand idly fiddling with his small ponytail. ‘Well, we can never be too sure.’ His eyes dart down the page, trying to account for anything he might’ve missed.
‘You can, actually, when it’s three-am and you want to go to bed.’
‘It’s only three-am,’ Goro retorts. ‘You’ve stayed up later playing games with Futaba.’
‘Yeah, but that’s when I’m playing games, it’s different! Plus Futaba infects me with her night goblin energy—that’s how it works.’
‘Oh? And you can’t siphon any energy off of me? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Okay, one: are you calling yourself a goblin?’ Akira grins when Goro shoots a glare his way, ‘and two: yes, actually, because I know you like to pass out by midnight at the latest, because you have the habits of a seventy-four year old, and because we live together.’
‘I do not—’ Goro’s sentence is punctuated by a loud yawn. When he’s done, the look of utter betrayal Goro has at his own body has Akira laughing.
‘Ugh, shut up,’ Goro grumbles, elbowing Akira away.
‘Nooo, don’t push me away, you’re so comfortable to lean on—’
‘I have to recheck the area one more time,’ Goro tells him curtly. But his hands, when he pushes him gently back to sit on the ballroom’s raised stage, are gentle. ‘You can sit here, in the meantime.’
Akira pouts. Goro ignores him.
With nobody else in the room and nothing else to do, Akira watches Goro as he triple-checks the area (hopefully for the last time). A thought occurs to him as Goro worries over a seemingly invisible spot on the walls.
‘Goro,’ he calls. ‘Would you plan your own wedding?’
The ballroom is small enough that Akira doesn’t have to pitch his voice very far. But it is far enough that Akira can’t see the specifics to the look that flashes across Goro’s face before he begins considering the question. Damn. An opportunity wasted.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ he says, slowly. He ducks to check beneath one of the tables.
‘You wouldn’t know?’ Akira asks incredulously. ‘Your own big day, and you’d want to be running around like a headless chicken checking the catering and flowers?’
Goro scowls. ‘Of course not,’ he says, ‘I’m not that much of a workaholic.’ Goro staunchly ignores the loud snort that comes from Akira at that statement. ‘I’d definitely hire someone else to do it. But it’s, you know. I doubt I’ll be able to switch myself off, no matter how hard I try.’
‘Having a work-life balance is the right and healthy thing to do, Goro.’
‘Sorry we can’t all set our own hours, mister coffee barista.’
‘That’s coffee manager to you,’ Akira corrects, haughtily. ‘And I set my own hours not because I help manage Leblanc, but because I’m Sojiro’s favourite.’
‘That’s a lie. Futaba will always be Sojiro’s favourite.’
‘He loves both of us equally,’ Akira says magnanimously. Goro slants him a look that says, keep telling yourself that, as he walks past him to go up the stage.
The conversation lapses as Goro busies himself with inspecting the leftover audio equipment. Akira casts his gaze out over the room as he waits. Through the windows he can see the night sky, dark and plain against the lights of the ballroom. Akira takes in the tables stripped of tablecloths, the swept floors, the walls bare of decorations. Without all of Goro’s meticulously planned fixings the ballroom looked almost nondescript, yet Akira can still remember seeing the two brides twirling under the hanging lights for their first dance, laughing amongst lush arrangements of red camellias and pink hyacinths. Ballrooms like these have seen all sorts of weddings through the years. It’s a nice thought.
Goro clatters down the stage and drifts, almost unconsciously, closer to Akira, flipping through the sheaf of papers fastened to his clipboard. A stray piece of hair slips loose from his small ponytail to hang in front of his face; idly, Goro reaches up and retucks it more securely behind his ear, brows furrowed in concentration.
Akira’s chest aches with adoration. It’s three-am, and Akira’s a little muzzy and tired from the past few hours of work, but he knows it’s the truth when he thinks: it could be years, and he would still want to look at this.
Akira loops his arms around Goro’s waist, nuzzles into his neck. Goro lets him.
‘It was a good wedding, today,’ he says, into the side of Goro’s jaw.
Goro snorts. ‘Well, of course it was. I planned it.’
Akira huffs a laugh. He feels Goro shiver underneath him from the puff of air. ‘Well, yes, of course,’ he says, and graciously pretends he doesn’t feel Goro preen from the praise. ‘But also, I mean. The two brides. They were so happy.’
And they really had been. The look on the first bride’s face when her soon-to-be wife had walked down the aisle—it had reminded Akira of every good thing that there had been and could be in the universe. That the two brides could stand in front of a crowd and recite vows of love and trust, in front of a whole ballroom full of people who supported and celebrated them, felt like nothing short of a miracle. Akira had felt that all the more acutely when witnessing the laughing faces of two people in love, both in wedding dresses; had dared to imagine, for just a moment, of the opposite scenario, of two bodies of suits instead. Love so precious that it could afford to be ordinary. It sang like triumph.
Goro hums. ‘Yes, they were,’ he says. His tone may sound brisk to some, but Akira’s got years of practice reading his boyfriend; he can hear the softness underneath it, the warmth that made Goro go into this profession in the first place. ‘After all, things like this are more treasured when you’ve not always had them.’
‘That too,’ Akira says. ‘But beyond all that, you know. It’s about marrying the one you love the most.’ Sometimes it can be that simple.
‘Careful now, Akira,’ Goro says, a wry twist to his voice. ‘Some may suspect you of having ideas.’
Akira tucks himself further into Goro’s space. His fingers flex over where they’re resting over Goro’s shirt. ‘And what if I am?’ He asks, voice thick.
From where he is, Akira can’t see Goro’s expression—but he feels Goro freeze. His boyfriend starts to pull away, but Akira stubbornly holds on, refuses to let Goro go.
‘Akira.’
‘Mm.’
‘Akira, look at me.’
Akira lifts his head from Goro’s shoulder. Goro takes the opportunity to turn himself around in Akira’s grasp, reaching up to hold Akira’s face in his hands as he searches deeply into Akira’s eyes. The clipboard lies abandoned on the stage.
‘Are you honestly thinking— is this you— are you?’ Goro asks. The look on his face is serious, but also tentative—almost terrified. An expression of want so strong that Goro refuses to let it override him.
Akira swallows. His heart is thudding furiously in his chest. ‘I mean,’ he says. ‘We’ve been dating for over five years now—’
‘Five and a half.’
Despite himself, Akira smiles. ‘Aw, you kept count? Nerd.’ Goro scowls, which would be worrying if not for the fact that Goro’s been absentmindedly stroking his thumb across the sweep of Akira’s cheek in what seems like an unconscious display of affection. Akira goes on. ‘And, I mean, we live together, and I don’t know about you but I always look forward to seeing you at the end of every day, and I miss you a lot when you’re not around, and sure all my friends and my life makes me happy but you’re an indispensable part of that too, and—’
He’s rambling. Akira knows he’s rambling. He had prepared an entire neat little speech for the sole purpose of avoiding this, but now he can’t remember any of it. But, as always, Goro comes in and saves him. He presses a finger to Akira’s lips.
‘Akira.’
‘Yes?’
Goro’s eyes flicker up and down Akira’s figure. He takes a deep breath. ‘Is this you proposing to me?’ He asks.
‘What? No.’ He doesn’t even have a ring. But before Goro can stiffen and pull away, Akira adds, ‘but it’s me, asking if. If I wanted to. Would you—want me to.’
That look on Goro’s face. It’s the same look that Akira saw on the two brides before, walking down the aisle. Every good and possible good thing.
‘Goro?’ Akira prompts when his boyfriend doesn’t say anything.
Instead of answering, Goro draws Akira in for a kiss.
Akira kisses back immediately. He leans in and slides his hands from Goro’s back to hold him securely by the hips, desperate to have Goro as close to him as possible. Goro, in response, trails his hands up Akira’s jaw and through his hair to wind his arms around Akira’s neck, dragging him down so that Akira is almost dipping him backwards. Akira’s got his eyes closed. Everything else in the world falls away, Akira’s focus narrowing onto his boyfriend, his shape, his heat, his mouth.
All too soon, Goro pulls away. Akira chases after the warmth instinctively, before remembering where they are and opening his eyes. Goro’s got a look of amusement on his face, but his eyes are impossibly fond. A thrill of relief shoots through Akira’s body.
‘Can I take that as a yes, then?’ He asks, unable to keep the breathless giddiness out of his voice.
Goro’s eyes narrow playfully. He taps the tip of Akira’s nose. ‘I hope you know that I don’t do half-measures,’ he says.
‘Of course not.’
‘I expect an elaborate proposal.’
‘Obviously.’
‘But nothing gaudy and over-the-top.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘You do know my ring size?’
Akira leans in to nose against Goro’s cheek. He’s smiling so wide it hurts. ‘Yes, Goro, I do, and I know exactly the kind of ring styles you like too, on account of how I’ve seen you react to all your clients’ engagement rings. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. Unless you actually want to plan your own proposal?’
Goro huffs. ‘Don’t be silly. I specialise in weddings, not the engagement ceremony.’
Akira laughs. It’s three-am but every ache of tiredness has been chased away in his body. Akira could do anything right now. Run a marathon. Dead lift a table. Carry Goro all the way home, rather than take a taxi.
Propose to the love of his life, spend the rest of his days just like this.
Akira reaches and clasps Goro’s hand in his own, brings it up to his mouth and gives the back of it a kiss.
‘I’m going to make you the happiest you’ve ever been,’ he promises, and means it.
Goro’s eyes soften.
‘As if you haven’t done that already,’ he murmurs. ‘But, well, I suppose I’ll hold you to it.’
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