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Kagehira Mika was, by no means whatsoever, a morning person.
He remembered this fact every single morning, assailed by the incessant beeping of his alarm, but especially on mornings like these, where the sun hadn’t even risen yet.
Mika groaned. Half-conscious, he untangled his arm from the mess of bedcovers cocooned around him, fumbling around on the table till his fingers connected with something cool. Silence fell over the dark room again, and he sighed in relief. He was certainly lucky Ritsu had an overnight job today, because if he’d been there, Mika would probably have heard quite a colorful string of curses from the next bed over.
Cracking open one bleary eye, he glanced at the screen of his phone, which read 5:00.
“Nnah… five more minutes,” he muttered, rolling over and burrowing under the covers again. It was still so dark, and he was so sleepy…
A moment later, though, Mika properly registered what day it was, sitting bolt upright—and promptly hitting his head on the headboard of his bed.
Rubbing the back of his head ruefully, he leaned over to pick up his phone again, confirming the date.
October 30th. Shu’s birthday.
Mika flung off the blankets with some effort, hopping out of bed and trudging to the bathroom, where he turned on the tap, letting the sound of running water become background noise to his thoughts.
Shu was currently in Paris, meaning it was still the night of the 29th there—around ten o’clock, if he remembered correctly.
Originally, they had been intending to celebrate together at the Starmony Dorms or the Itsuki home, since Shu had planned to come home for his birthday, but something had suddenly cropped up on his end, rendering him unable to return for the time being. He’d heard his own disappointment mirrored in Shu’s voice when Shu had told him there had been an unexpected change of plans, but there was no use crying over spilled milk, so they’d gone for the next best thing instead—a video call.
Mika went through the rest of his morning routine with thoughts buzzing through his head at breakneck speed (much like Kazehaya Tatsumi’s driving, he thought, and the thought prompted such an intense shudder that he nearly slipped in the shower—what a sight that would have been for Ritsu to return home to), driving him like some sort of battery or windup switch.
Nnahhhh, I really gotta get more sleep after this…
’S kinda cold, I gotta bundle up real good when I go out later.
I wonder what Oshi-san’s doin’ right now…
It was only once he’d given himself a highly critical once-over in the mirror, deeming himself presentable enough for the (very special, mind you) occasion, that Mika finally allowed himself to leave the bathroom, satisfied.
“Oshi-san!” Mika settled breathlessly into his chair, stifling a yawn as he cleared lingering fabric scraps from last night off the tabletop, sweeping them onto another chair. It was, admittedly, a bit of a mess, considering he’d been using this small table as his workspace for the majority of the night, but that was decidedly a problem for Future Mika. For now, out of sight, out of mind.
“Kagehira. Good grief, your hair’s so unkempt,” came the response from the frowning figure of Itsuki Shu on his screen.
“Nnah? But I brushed it, though,” Mika protested.
Shu huffed, although the faintest ghost of a smile lurked at the corners of his lips. “Well… seeing that you’re so happy, I suppose I won’t scold you for it this time.”
Normally, even when they video called, Mika just sprawled comfortably across his bed, surrounded by plushies and blankets. Today, though, was a special occasion, so of course he’d put in as much effort as he could to look his best. He’d specifically asked Arashi for help choosing the perfect outfit to wear, and she had more than obliged, ever the enthusiastic wingwoman.
“That Oshi-san of yours certainly can’t complain about this one,” she’d declared proudly. Her words had certainly lived up to their mark, judging by the approving way Shu’s eyes lingered on him.
Paris seemed to be treating Shu well; his complexion was even healthier than Mika had last seen, and there was a relaxed air to him that certainly hadn’t been there during his Yumenosaki days. The change had been a little unsettling, at first, although not at all bad, and over time, he had slowly come to get used to it.
City lights twinkled outside the window with its gauzy curtain, much like the way Shu’s violet eyes reflected the lights in his apartment. Mika had never been to Paris, let alone Shu’s apartment, but looking at it gave him a sort of homey feel, different as it was from his own dorm room and his home back in Kansai—practically anywhere could feel like home, after all, if Shu was with him.
“An’ Mado-nee’s with ya too! Nnah, Mado-nee, yer lookin’ real pretty today,” he exclaimed, just now noticing the antique doll poised elegantly atop his boyfriend’s lap, dressed in a lovely blush-pink gown that matched Shu’s own cashmere sweater.
“Fufu. Thank you, Mika-chan,” Mademoiselle sang, sounding quite pleased. “As you can no doubt tell, Shu-kun made it himself.”
“No kiddin’? Yer so lucky, Mado-nee,” Mika said enviously, scooting a little closer and settling his chin on his arms. “I miss ya so much, Oshi-san.”
Shu’s eyes softened. “I know.”
And, after a moment: “I missed you too, Kagehira.”
The old Shu would likely never have admitted such a sentiment aloud; likely, Mademoiselle would have spoken in his stead, or he would have remained silent altogether. Warmth coursed through Mika’s veins, as if he were a Greek hero who had drunk from the nectar of the gods.
“How are things on your end, Kagehira?”
“Nnah? Kinda the same as usual, I guess… uh, well, I’ve been doin’ a lot o’ photoshoots,” Mika added. “Fer some reason I’ve been real popular for modelin’ stuffs lately…”
“Yes, so I’ve seen.” Faint amusement laced Shu’s tone, a small huff following suit. “‘Kagehira Mika the cool beauty,’ and all that. They’re not very good at reading you, are they?”
“I know! Naru-chan says it too, that they keep givin’ me the wrong sorta image, an’ I—wait.”
Mika only just then realized the implications of what Shu had said, and he stared at him, slack-jawed, his lips forming a little “o” with surprise. “Oshi-san, ya buy my magazines?”
He saw the moment the realization dawned on his boyfriend’s face and had to hold back the urge to laugh; Shu began to splutter incoherently, his face washing red.
“That—w-well, evidently,” he managed, straightening his sweater in an attempt to regain some semblance of his prior dignity. “Considering you are my partner and all… o-of course I would wish to support your progress.”
Mika was sure his grin right now must be the widest, goofiest one he’d worn in a while. “Thank ya kindly, then, Oshi-san.”
“You know, Mika-chan, Shu-kun often talks about you,” Mademoiselle supplied helpfully. If she weren’t an unmoving doll, Mika could have sworn he’d seen a playful twinkle in her green eyes. “Especially in his sleep, he’s always mumbling about how much he misses y—”
“M-Mademoiselle! That is quite enough!” Shu exclaimed, now so red that Mika thought he might just explode on the spot.
“Ehehe.” Shu’s flush further deepened as Mika giggled, leaning forward. “So Oshi-san really misses me, huh? Knowin’ that makes me real, real happy.”
“... Well, it’s only natural that I’d miss you. We spent two years living together, did we not? I…” Pink crept up Shu’s ears, “... grew used to having you around.”
“Me too,” Mika admitted, unable to stifle his yawn this time. If Shu noticed how frequently he’d been yawning, he didn’t say anything, his brow simply furrowing somewhat.
For a while, they just continued to exchange stories, as well as reminisce on past memories; Shu had an especially interesting story about a corner boulangerie and a new project he’d gotten to working on, while Mika had plenty of stories about the shopping trips Pretty 5 had gone on together and a particularly fun modeling job with Arashi last week. Every time they called each other, Mika never wanted to put down the phone, wanting to keep hearing Shu’s voice; he almost always ran a few minutes late to whatever he had next on his schedule because of it, something for which Shu had scolded him a couple of times, but they both knew that likely wouldn’t be changing anytime in the near future.
“Halloween is tomorrow,” Shu mentioned offhandedly. “I don’t doubt everyone’s schedules have been packed full.”
Mika nodded, making a small noise of agreement. “There’s lots o’ lives tomorrow. Even Ritsu-kun and Sakuma-senpai have been more energetic lately.”
“I don’t doubt it. Those two have always been fond of Halloween, after all.”
“What about you, Mika-chan?” This time, it was Mademoiselle who spoke, the light making her green eyes look all the brighter. “What are you doing for Halloween?”
Shu sniffed, casting a small frown down at the doll sitting placidly in his lap, her smile as serene as ever. “Hmph. I would have said that myself had you not gotten ahead of me, Mademoiselle.”
“Me? I’m dressin’ as a doll again n’ handin’ out candy to kids outside. Knights have a live, but Naru-chan an’ Ritsu-kun said they’d come help me out as soon as it was over. It was just gonna be Naru-chan an’ Ritsu-kun comin’ at first, see,” he explained, “but then Tsukasa-kun an’ Tsukinaga-senpai said it sounded fun an’ that they’d help out too.”
At first, he’d been a bit reluctant, considering Knights was a busy unit, as one of the three biggest powerhouses of ES, and likely had more plans for the evening—it wouldn’t be good if they stretched themselves too thin and wore themselves out while helping him. Especially with Izumi in Italy right now, they already had enough on their plates; he’d feel awful if he ended up hindering them.
Tsukinaga Leo and Suou Tsukasa were both quite stubborn people, though, and Mika had had no choice but to give up; it seemed to be a trait that ran in all of Knights’ members, that stubborn streak. Arashi, Ritsu, Leo, Tsukasa, Izumi, not a single one of them lacked in the stubbornness department. Then again, it wasn’t like they of Valkyrie did, either.
“Sena’s unit,” Shu noted.
Mika nodded. “Yep, Sena-senpai’s uni—”
He was cut off midsentence by a yawn he was only half able to stifle, eyelashes fluttering as he blinked back the sudden wetness in his eyes.
I really should have gotten more sleep, he thought ruefully.
How many times had he yawned now? Five? Six? He’d lost count already; all he knew was that he’d have to take a leaf from Ritsu’s book and take a nice, long nap later today.
The seventh or so time that Mika yawned, Shu couldn’t help but frown. “You’ve been yawning quite a bit, Kagehira. And there are shadows under your eyes… have you even slept?”
“Nnah… a lil’ bit?” Mika rubbed his nose ruefully, having the grace to look slightly embarrassed.
Shu raised an eyebrow, and Mika explained, “Nnah… I was workin’ on some outfits yesterday, see, an’ I got so lost in my sewin’ that I completely lost track o’ time. An’ by the time I remembered ta take a look at the time, it was already real late…”
Now that was an explanation Shu certainly couldn’t chastise, considering he’d done the same thing many times himself—still did, in fact. So, instead, he settled for asking, “What outfits?”
Mika seemed to perk up at that, much akin to a child who had been asked about his favorite book. “Oh! Y’see, Tsumu-chan-senpai recommended me a couple books earlier this month, an’ I was right inspired by ’em. So I’ve been workin’ on some costumes fer Valkyrie, since I got a couple ideas! An’ on top o’ that, a couple people needed help fixin’ up their outfits a bit, an’ seein’ as I didn’t have any jobs fer the day, I said I’d help ’em out, see?”
“Outfits for Valkyrie, you said?” Shu leaned forward a little, intrigued. “Might I inquire more on these outfits, Kagehira?”
“Eh? Sure thing, Oshi-san!”
Watching Mika ramble with that excited shine in his eye like a little kid, Shu wondered how he’d ever found such chatter irksome. There was nothing more endearing than watching Mika’s words gush out like water overflowing from a dam—not that Shu would admit that much aloud, of course. Well, more like he couldn’t properly admit it—putting it into words was hard, but he was sure the dark-haired boy had begun to see it in the way he listened closely, silent and rapt with attention, whenever he spoke.
After a while, though, Mika trailed off, looking a little self-conscious; a little sheepishly, he asked, “Am I sayin’ somethin’ weird again, Oshi-san?”
Shu blinked. “Not at all? There’s no need to be embarrassed, Kagehira. You’ve done quite well, actually—allow me to praise you.”
The smile that spread across the other boy’s face was angelic in how childlike it was; Shu could savor that sight for the rest of his life and still never be satisfied. Mika opened his mouth to respond, but the beginnings of a yawn beat him to the punch, and, eyes watering even as they lit up from the praise, he mumbled, words slipping fuzzily through a particularly large yawn, “Thank ya muchly, Oshi-san.”
“Mm… honestly, Kagehira, you need to develop better sleeping habits,” Shu sighed, shaking his head. Still, he didn’t push it, not having the heart to scold Mika today.
In fact, Mika was quite adorable when he was sleepy, so much that Shu yearned for nothing more than to be right there with him—to wake up to the familiar sight of that sleepy face squished against the pillows, affectionately tousle that messy dark hair, pull his sleepy boyfriend closer to his chest and press a kiss to the top of his head and whisper a barely-audible I love you that only seemed to come so naturally when the other was asleep.
It was moments like these that Shu was tempted to throw everything away and catch the soonest flight home.
Only Mika, it seemed, could inspire such reckless thoughts in him.
“I miss sleepin’ next ta Oshi-san,” his boyfriend mumbled, as if he’d read Shu’s thoughts. Being sleepy always made the already earnest boy even more endearingly honest, something of which Shu would never tire.
“Should things go as planned, I should be able to come home soon,” he replied gently. “Perhaps we could stay at my—our—home again, like we did last year.”
Mika’s eyes lit up, like sunlight falling on a child’s marbles. “Really?”
His favorite colors, Shu thought, looking into those bright eyes with an absent sort of fondness. The colors he found himself embroidering onto more and more of his works these days, thinking of the person waiting for him back home.
Yawning, the dark-haired boy rubbed his eyes again, sitting up a little straighter. “Nnah… I’d like that a real bunch, Oshi-san.”
“And if that doesn’t come to pass… well, I suppose we’ll just have to find a way for me to sneak into your dormitory room, then, will we not, Kagehira?”
Perhaps Paris had led him to let loose a lot more than he’d thought, because Shu surprised even himself with the uncharacteristically playful words he found rolling off his tongue. Maybe it was a little of Natsume’s influence, maybe a little of Wataru’s, maybe even a little of Rei’s or Kanata’s. It was hard to tell, after all, just when and where all these changes had sprung from. Maybe they’d always been there, just waiting to be let out.
A pink rush danced across Mika’s cheeks like swirling fabric in a wayward breeze, and he burst into surprised laughter, tapering off in an ungraceful but cute little snort before finally managing, “Nnah, I s’pose Ritsu-kun wouldn’t mind that, as long as we don’t disturb his sleep.”
“Hmm, I suppose you’re right,” Shu agreed. “Rei’s brother does seem rather laid-back most of the time… although I have heard from Sena that he can get downright crabby sometimes when his sleep is disturbed.”
“Yup. Though, since we’re roommates an’ friends an’ all, Ritsu-kun cuts me a bunch o’ slack,” Mika added. “An’ since Oshi-san’s real special ta me, I doubt he’d be mean ta you, either.”
“Slack which he doesn’t seem to cut Rei, from what I’ve heard from the man himself.”
Mika seemed to have heard as much, too, judging by his almost apologetic laugh.
Shu leaned in a little closer, trying to imagine that they were in the same room, no screen between them. I miss you.
“Tell me more of your stories,” he said.
They chatted about this and that for some time, Mika telling Shu story after story from the Starmony Dorms, Ensemble Square, his jobs, Yumenosaki, everything from everywhere he could possibly think of—all the while silently counting down to midnight (by Shu’s time).
Ten minutes.
Nine minutes.
Eight minutes.
Seven minutes.
Six minutes.
Five minutes. Perfect.
“Oshi-san, cover yer eyes,” Mika instructed. “Dontcha peek, or I’ll be real mad at ya!”
Well, not that he could ever be really mad at Shu, at least for long. As far as he could remember, he’d only ever gotten mad at Shu once, that being after the events of the JNLC, when Shu had canceled his apartment lease to move him to the Starmony Dorms and tossed out what he’d deemed “old garbage.”
Then again, that hadn’t started off as anger, either; in that first fraction of a second, it had been fear, because those assorted knickknacks, that “worthless trash,” it was his, it was him, and to see it all thrown away was to see himself thrown away again, and that thought had been frightening enough to spark even someone usually as docile as him into a towering rage.
It was still something new and strange to reassure himself, to let himself be reassured, that Shu would not, in fact, throw him away, that he had worth as a human being and not just as some defective excuse of a doll. It was new and strange, but slowly, surely, Mika was beginning to grow used to it, to allow himself to find comfort in the idea of permanence, of home.
Perhaps he was a little like the lost and lonely Sara finding home with the Carmichaels, he thought, and the idea was so peculiar and warm that Mika couldn’t suppress a smile.
After he’d made sure that Shu was, in fact, not peeking, his eyes tightly and neatly shut (if Mika leaned in enough, perhaps he could almost count those long pink eyelashes), he got up from his chair as quietly as he could, crossing the small kitchen in about three quick strides and slowly opening the refrigerator, careful for the door not to make any audible squeaks or creaks.
Dorms didn’t come with their own refrigerators; Mika had just bought this mini refrigerator a week or so ago, wanting to store cold drinks (courtesy of Arashi and HiMERU) without them becoming uncomfortably warm. He couldn’t lie and say he hadn’t also considered Shu’s upcoming birthday and the need to store a cake in the immediate vicinity, either…
Inside the mini refrigerator sat a round cake—strawberries and cream chocolate cake, Shu’s childhood favorite.
Shu had mentioned it once, a while ago; he hadn’t acted on the cravings he’d mentioned, though, sighing instead that there was always something lacking in the ones he tasted from other places, and that nothing could seem to compare to the ones he’d had as a child.
Mika wasn’t particularly sure if his cake could measure up to those standards, either. He’d asked Shiina-san from Crazy:B for help on what recipe to follow, sure, and, although the kitchen had been a complete mess of flour after he’d finished baking and decorating, when he’d given the batter a taste, it had actually tasted pretty good. But the cake was slightly misshapen at the edges, its icing smeared a little more messily in certain places, the strawberries cut a little unevenly; in no way did it resemble the kind of refined, high-end pastries Shu had grown up eating.
Placing the cake on the table before him as quietly as he could manage, Mika got to lighting the candles he’d brought out, humming as loudly as he possibly could to cover up the clicking of the lighter, the soft whooshing of the little flames, and the faint sliding sound of the candles being pushed into the cake.
Halfway through his humming rendition of “Artistic Partisan,” Mika found himself offhandedly wondering how everyone in ALKALOID was doing. He’d been busy for quite a while, and the only member of ALKALOID he’d seen in the past few weeks or so had been Tatsumi, who had asked him for help in mending a torn uniform and then treated him to a meal afterwards as thanks. Mika had been quite glad to indulge in chatter with the kindhearted senpai; there was just something very soothing about Kazehaya Tatsumi—though his driving was an altogether different story—that made it easy to speak without feeling self-conscious.
Shu, onscreen, still had his eyes closed, although the way his brows had begun to scrunch up told Mika that he’d begun to get a little impatient.
“Okay,” he said at last, once he’d made sure everything was set up as it should be. “You can open yer eyes now, Oshi-san.”
“You can open yer eyes now, Oshi-san.”
Shu’s eyes slowly fluttered open, darkness yielding itself to light once more.
Mika came into view again, now beaming at him over a cake sitting on the table, candles pushed into its top—nineteen of them, Shu counted.
The cake was surprisingly nicely made, nothing like the misshapen attempts that usually came out of Mika’s baking exploits (well, at least the ones without Shu’s supervision). It was even his childhood favorite, a strawberries and cream chocolate cake—he supposed he might have mentioned it around Mika before, perhaps in some sort of offhanded discussion when they’d lived together, but he’d never expected the other would have remembered it all this time. Warmth swelled up in his chest, spreading through him like he’d drunk a particularly delicious cup of hot tea.
Despite its being a little lopsided in places, its icing a little messy at various points, the cake had very obviously been made with great love and care, and something about the confection was so very Mika that Shu could only smile, lips mimicking the crescent moon that hung in the sky outside his window.
He’d had plenty of birthday cakes when he was younger, each increasingly complex and elegant, but they had all been cakes ordered from high-end bakeries, never made by the hand of someone close to him, and if one ever had been, then it must have been when he was far too young to remember it.
An imperfect cake handmade with love… far surpassed any of the perfect cakes in the world, made only with dutiful professionalism.
“Kagehira,” was all he could say, the warm feeling in his chest leaving him at a loss for words, but, judging from the way Mika was gazing at him, he could tell that he’d understood everything Shu had left unsaid.
Mika’s eyes danced in the candlelight, little points of luminescence twinkling gently like half-buried gems or trapped stars at the bottoms of those twin pools of amber and lapis lazuli. “Happy birthday, Shu.”
“Kagehira,” Shu repeated, his tongue gliding eagerly over the word, curling around it pleasantly, soaking it up like a honeybee drinking up nectar—warm, wonderful, fond.
“I made ya somethin’,” came the reply, bright as the glint in the eyes of the person who had spoken it. “I mailed it a while ago, so it should arrive later today.”
“Oh?” Unable to suppress his curiosity, Shu leaned in a little closer, tilting his head. “And… might I inquire as to what it is?”
Mika’s face scrunched up in a pout, then gave way to a conspiratorial smile, all teeth and mystique, and Shu thought he might just fall in love all over again as the dark-haired boy replied, a finger raised to his lips, “Nope! ’S a surprise… nnah, though I do hope ya like it, Oshi-san.”
The confidence melted as quickly as it had come, and Mika rubbed the back of his neck, lowering his head slightly as if embarrassed.
Oh, Mika, ever the worrier. Foolhardy boy that he was, Mika had always been so self-conscious—though, Shu thought with a touch of guilt, he was not without fault in relation to that. He had been much more generous with his praise and general kindness lately, but it wasn’t as if that could completely erase the effects of the past.
He would just have to continue to do better, he knew. Dwelling on the past too much would only serve to exhaust him more, and it would do nothing for anyone—not him, not Mika. Mika had been the one to give him that precious knowledge as he’d pulled him up from the depths of the abyss.
“Oh, Kagehira.” Mademoiselle’s glassy green eyes seemed to encourage him, and Shu took a deep breath, then continued, “If it’s something you’ve made with care, then... you needn’t worry about me disliking it.”
Unconsciously, his thoughts strayed to a wintry day from the previous year: falling snow amid howling winds outside, skin clammy with sweat, the white linen of an infirmary bed. A little snow globe, obviously handmade, with two small, clumsily shaped figures inside, returning to a Western-style mansion.
“Truth is, I really wanted t’make the same snowglobe that ya broke, Oshi-san, but it’s not like I knew what it looked like, yanno? That bein’ the case, I thought I’d make the ornament the most beautiful thing in the world to me.”
“This is what you think the most beautiful thing in the world is… ?”
“Instead of sayin’ the most beautiful, maybe I oughta say the most important? Nnah, which one’d be best?”
“Do you mean to say that this is the most precious thing to you?”
“Yeah, that! Yer good with words as always, Oshi-san. It doesn’t matter what moment I pick, ’cause every moment I’m with ya means the world to me.”
A clumsy little snow globe, made by clumsy hands full of love. “A whim,” he’d called it, placing the snow globe in the open cabinet of the handicrafts room back then, and maybe, in that moment, it had just been that. But as time had come to pass, he had come to grow used to that silly little snowglobe, the sight of it soothing his heart whenever he sewed alone.
A happiness shared by two halves sadness, Mika had said back then. Maybe that was why his heart had felt so much lighter lately, why even sadness seemed to turn tail and flee more quickly than before.
You are the greatest gift I could have asked for.
It was a sentiment that could only be called cheesy, much as Shu detested the word—Hallmark-level cheesy, something they’d find in an almost cloyingly overdecorated card somewhere in a Valentine’s Day aisle.
He cleared his throat, swallowing the clichéd words and settling instead for watching the way the candlelight danced in Mika’s eyes, little points of golden light pirouetting across his irises.
Mika grinned, his expression taking on a more abashed note, and rubbed his nose, ducking his head slightly with visible embarrassment. “Nnah? Yer starin’ at me again, Oshi-san.”
You are the greatest gift I could have asked for.
I was just blind enough not to have realized it earlier.
“You’re pleasing to look at,” he said.
“You’re pleasing to look at.”
Mika blinked. Before his mind could catch up, a laugh had already slipped from his lips, light and surprised, almost like the confused half-caw of a baby crow.
Shu’s face scrunched up briefly, then relaxed again, the corners of his lips lifting in a faint smile of his own. Maybe absence did make the heart fonder, because whenever they video called, Mika always found himself smiling till his lips hurt (not that it was much of a change from usual, around Shu), and even Shu smiled much more than usual, a soft, laid-back, gentle-eyed smile reserved for Mika alone.
Eyes straying absently, he caught a glimpse of light, and, focusing on it, he realized it was the snow globe he’d made for Shu back when Shu had gotten sick and fainted last year, during StarFes preparations, sitting on a shelf a little ways behind Shu himself. It glinted slightly in the light, the proximity of the nearby lamp making it look as if the sun was illuminating the two little figures holding hands inside.
“This house, as well as the clothing worn by these two figures, remind me of something... Are you really asking me to believe that these misshapen things are supposed to be us?”
“Nnah, I thought you’d say somethin’ like that. I had Hajime-kun an’ Mitsuru-kun help me out, and I did my best, y’know? Truth is, I really wanted ta make the same snowglobe that ya broke, Oshi-san, but it’s not like I knew what it looked like, yanno? That bein’ the case, I thought I’d make the ornament the most beautiful thing in the world to me.”
Mika looked back at Shu, then glanced down at the cake, remembering the lit candles. It had only been about two minutes since he’d put them in, and, surprisingly, they’d melted much more slowly than he’d expected. Arashi had been right in recommending beeswax-based candles; he had to remember to thank her later. Still, he expected he’d be tasting at least a little melted wax once the cake was cut.
“C’mon, blow out the candles, Oshi-san!”
Now it was Shu’s turn to blink in surprise; surprise soon shifted to embarrassment, however, and he coughed lightly, clearing his throat as he crossed his arms.
After a moment, he pointed out, amusement creeping into that embarrassed expression of his, “You are aware it won’t actually do anything, are you not? Breath can’t travel through a screen.”
But, as always, even he—especially he—had to cave in the face of Mika’s rare pouting face.
Counting to three together, both of them blew out the candles, Shu from afar and Mika right there by the cake.
Not a moment after the candles had been extinguished, Mika launched into the birthday song with gusto. Shu’s face was an interesting cross between flustered and touched, enough so that Mika struggled to keep from bursting into giggles mid-song.
Once his rendition of the birthday song had drawn to a close, he began to clap. What exactly were they meant to applaud at the end of the birthday song? Back at the orphanage, one of the younger children had asked him that; Mika had panicked then, not knowing the answer himself, and blurted out randomly, mostly to appease her, “Uh, well, we’re clappin’ ’cause we’re so glad yer alive!”
He’d made the answer up on the spot, of course, typical childish nonsense. But, as time passed, he’d grown to believe it himself. Maybe that wasn’t really the reason behind it—maybe it was something else altogether, something far off from what he’d thought. But for him, those random words blurted out in a moment of panic would always be what seemed most right.
Mika cut the cake next, plating two slices.
“I wish there was a way fer me ta mail ya some o’ this cake without it gettin’ ruined,” he said wistfully, swallowing the last bite of one slice before reaching for the second. It certainly didn’t help that he was much hungrier than he’d expected, having woken up so early.
Shu snorted lightly, mild amusement showing in his gaze. “Hm. Well, when I’m next able to return… I suppose we could make another, could we not?”
“Then Oshi-san should feed me,” he replied cheekily.
Pink washed across Shu’s cheeks as he turned his head slightly, although it certainly didn’t hide from view the faint smile gracing his lips. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Kagehira.”
Mika laughed. Shu’s smile grew, too, another little chuckle escaping his lips, until they were both giggling like a pair of children, breathless with delight.
It doesn’t matter what moment I pick, ’cause every moment I’m with ya means the world to me.
Once they’d calmed down sufficiently, Mika cleared up the table a little, putting away the cake before returning to his seat. He stifled another yawn, stretching, as he sank into the chair again.
This and that and whatever, Shu found rolling off his tongue: a constant stream of chatter, rather Mika-esque in its eagerness. The weather in Paris, the new candy shop that had opened a block away (he made a mental note to bring a bag with him next time he returned to Japan, Mika was sure to enjoy them), and, especially, plans for when he was able to return. Shu didn’t particularly consider himself much of a talker, most of the time—usually, Mika talked, and he sewed, listening and occasionally adding in his two cents.
Plans spilled from both of their lips, tumbling eagerly over one another, as if they were children planning for their next playdate: Let’s go ta the beach together. Perhaps we could stargaze? There’s a new croissant place near Yumenosaki, let’s go check it out! An interesting play is coming to the nearby theatre, I suppose I can ask Wataru to reserve us tickets.
“I miss ya so much, Oshi-san,” Mika murmured, the words petering off into a wistful sigh.
“I miss you every bit as much, Kagehira.” To his surprise, Shu found himself admitting, “It is still rather odd to wake up and not have you there. Or to always have the table set for just one person.”
Under Mika’s bright, fond gaze, though, he quailed, his face burning as he added hastily, “Not that—it’s not as if I am unable to sleep without you around or something such! If you expect me to say such trite things then I’m afraid I must disappoint you there! I—”
Shu reddened even further as Mika laughed, but when his boyfriend stifled another yawn, looking sleepier than ever, he couldn’t help but soften.
“You should sleep,” he said gently. “You didn’t get that much sleep last night, after all.”
But Mika shook his head insistently, the stubbornness of his expression giving him the look of a petulant child. “I don’t wanna go jus’ yet.”
“Kagehira—” Shu began.
“I ain’t sleepy,” Mika insisted adorably, though it was very obviously a lie, considering the massive yawn that punctuated the sentence right afterward.
Well… Shu supposed he could indulge him, this once. He certainly didn’t have the heart to say no to that—and what better way to spend his birthday than in the company of his boyfriend?
“All right,” he agreed. “Just a little longer, then.”
“Tell me about Paris, Oshi-san.” Mika scooted forward, resting his head on his arms. “I like yer stories.”
And Shu obliged, telling Mika about everything: the woman at his favorite pâtisserie, who always had his preferred croissants ready for him every morning. The people he’d become acquainted with in the artistic circles of Paris (here Mademoiselle put in, rather cheekily, that Shu had spoken of Mika so much in front of them that they’d thought the two had been dating long before they’d officially gotten together. Mortified, he could only tell her to be quiet, willing himself not to flush at Mika’s pleased giggle). The sceneries, the fabrics, the pastries, the sights, the smells, the sounds—he was so caught up in his stories that he didn’t even notice till halfway through that the other end had gone silent.
When he looked back at the screen, he was met with the most endearing sight: Mika, fast asleep on the table, a peaceful, happy smile on his face.
He was even drooling slightly, Shu noted with some amusement, the sight bringing him nothing but fondness.
He wished he could just pick Mika up and carry him back to his room, wanting nothing more than to tuck him in warmly and cuddle him to sleep, but he couldn’t, so he settled for leaning in to press a kiss to his screen where Mika’s forehead was, murmuring, “Dors avec les anges, mon bonheur.”
Shu picked up his phone, moving to his bedroom, and placed it on his bed, quickly putting Mademoiselle aside in her usual spot.
He made sure to keep his nighttime routine as quick and quiet as possible so he wouldn’t wake Mika on the other end, then quietly slipped into bed with a light rustle of the bedcovers, propping up his phone with its stand so he and Mika would still be able to see each other.
Shu gazed at the figure of his sleeping boyfriend onscreen for a little while, certain that the look in his eyes was the extremely soft one that only ever came out when Mika was either sleeping, not looking, or just really lucky.
Even from half a world away, he thought, Mika had still managed to make his birthday something for him to look forward to.
Shu smiled, then yawned, closing his eyes.
“Good night… Mika.”