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"Fuck." Hizashi looked at the disaster again, but it didn't change anything. He was going to die. Today. Probably very soon, in fact. "How could this happen to me?" he thought, shivering at the thought that he would somehow have to explain this mishap to Shouta., who would be up in less than an hour to get ready for his night patrol. "Crap! Damn! Fuck! Why? How am I supposed to...?" cursed Hizashi, cold sweat forming on his forehead. He looked at the clock. Impossible. He didn't have time to save anything. He picked everything up off the floor and carried it into the living room, where he spread it out on the table. "Maybe I can... no. But maybe...no. Maybe I should..... not a good idea either." Hectically he rummaged through the pile in front of him, when suddenly and unexpectedly he heard the creak of the bedroom door. Drenched in sweat, he turned around. "Too soon....." Shouta shuffled out of the bedroom and headed for the bathroom. He took no notice of his husband. The door slammed and everything spun in Hizashi's head. He felt sick to his stomach and fell backwards onto the sofa. "How am I going to tell him?" Tears formed in his eyes and he kept looking nervously at the bathroom. Nothing could be heard yet. Shouta probably brushed his teeth and peed once more before finishing dressing and heading out. Hizashi heard the toilet flush and his stomach turned. And then came what had to come. "Hizashi," boomed it from the bathroom. "Where's my scarf?" Hizashi felt sick. He put a hand over his mouth as the bathroom door opened with a thud and a very disgruntled looking Shouta stood in the doorway. The black-haired man saw his husband sitting on the sofa, white as a sheet, and a pile of laundry in front of him on the table. "Didn't I ask you to wash the white clothes?" asked Shouta, tilting his head a little. Then suddenly his eyes widened and his mouth stood open. Hizashi was unable to move and on the verge of throwing up. "Did you about....?" asked Shouta upset, taking a few steps toward Hizashi. "You don't have...., do you?" The blond swallowed hard as Shouta reached into the pile of laundry and pulled out his scarf. He closed his eyes. "I'm about to die," he thought to himself, waiting for his husband to throw a tantrum. But nothing happened. Carefully Hizashi opened his eyes and looked at Shouta. The latter looked at his scarf in disbelief. His white scarf or better formerly white. Because now it was drenched in a bright green. Just like the rest of the formerly white laundry. The black haired man reached into the pile of laundry again and pulled out a green cloth. Hizashi slid a little further away from Shouta, even though he knew it wouldn't help. He should just surrender to his fate. And when Shouta took a breath, he expected an explosion. "You still have this?" asked Shouta calmly, holding out the cloth to the blond. Hizashi didn't dare to relax, but nodded briefly and then added. "I carry it with me sometimes. When I have important appointments or something. It........ calms me down." Shouta looked alternately at the cloth and at his husband. Then he sat down next to him on the sofa, eliciting a short cry of panic from Hizashi. "It's been seven years," Shouta began. "So?" the blond replied calmly, relaxing a little. "You .... aren't angry?" he asked hesitantly after a brief pause. "Because of my scarf? Yes, I am angry. Angry that you didn't pay better attention, but...." Shouta looked at the scarf almost dreamily, seeming to reminisce, and when Hizashi noticed a shallow smile, he sat up straight and moved a bit closer to the black-haired man. "But?"
"This is the pocket square I wore at our wedding."
"Yeah, but what does that change about your ruined scarf?"
"I didn't know you still had it."
"Why wouldn't I have it anymore?" ask Hizashi in horror. "It reminds me of the most beautiful day in my life. I even re-dye our cloths regularly so they don't fade, and besides, I've practically saved everything from our wedding."
Now it was Shouta who looked confused or rather surprised.
"You saved everything?" he asked in amazement.
"Of course," Hizashi nodded excitedly and continued, "The greeting cards, the gifts, the table decorations from our table, our suits," he pointed to the cloth in Shouta's hand, "and our scarves of course."
A smile flitted across Shouta's face again, and Hizashi couldn't help but press a gentle kiss to his cheek. "These things always remind me of our special day. I know you don't care about such things, but it shows me every time what a great luck I had to meet you." He looked at the black-haired man with warm cheeks, and when Shouta turned to him and pressed a tender kiss to his lips, Hizashi's heart gave a huge leap. "Actually, I should be really mad at you for ruining my scarf," Shouta began. "But it matches your eyes very well now." He held his scarf next to Hizashi's face, looked eagerly at the blond, and grinned mischievously. Hizashi's face took on a deep red color and he couldn't get another word out. At that moment, Shouta's scarf wrapped around Hizashi's torso and pulled him close to the black-haired. A hand grabbed him by the back of the neck and made sure their faces were only inches apart. "I have a little time before I have to go to work," Shouta breathed to the blond. "And I really want to see how my green scarf does in the bedroom. After all, it matches our green bedding perfectly now." He ran his tongue along Hizashi's neck and the blond surrendered to his fate.