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Pale, dull skin and plainly combed hair are all that greet Tadashi as he stares in the mirror on the morning of his thirtieth birthday. It’s the same image that’s stared back at him his entire life; nothing has dramatically shifted or altered on behalf of him breaching his thirties. Of course, there are small signs of his age beginning to show, accumulated gradually throughout the years and going largely unnoticed until now, with attention drawn to them by the instant milestone. The stress wrinkles manifesting along his forehead and between his brows; the stray strands of gray dotting his hair, brought in early by a lifetime of sleepless nights and the stress of having someone’s—his most important someone’s—life balanced in his hands.
Tadashi sighs, steps away from the mirror. It’s not like him to pay his appearance much mind beyond ensuring that he looks adequately professional, and something as trivial as a birthday does not warrant changing that. In previous years, his birthday has meant a new book from his father, spending extra time with Ainosuke, perhaps receiving a few extra smiles from the other staff; nothing more.
And so he carries out his morning routine in the same manner as any other day, because really, that’s all today is. Just another day.
He leaves the bathroom and begins his usual regime of opening the curtains in Ainosuke’s (and, recently, his) room, turning off the white noise machine and heated mattress pad, preparing a fresh glass of water. He places the glass on a coaster on Ainosuke’s nightstand before slowly, finally, leaning into the other man’s space. Ainosuke is beautiful when he sleeps, a fact Tadashi has known all his life but never fails to take note of. Ainosuke’s face is unmarred by the forced smiles and unpleasant scowls of his waking hours; instead, his features are soft and relaxed. Tadashi finds Ainosuke’s sleeping visage captivating even when it is smushed against whatever object he rests on, or when his mouth hangs open. It’s all perfect—it’s Ainosuke.
Tadashi reaches out to gently cup Ainosuke’s face now, running his thumb feather-light across his cheek before trailing downward, across his neck and shoulder before arriving at his bicep. Here, Tadashi applies a bit more pressure, rubbing Ainosuke’s arm warmly, carefully.
“Ai,” Tadashi says, soft, still a little shy of the nickname. “Time to wake up.”
Ainosuke wakes gently, his eyes fluttering open before flicking upward to find Tadashi’s. He smiles then, sleepy and tender and so genuine that Tadashi’s heart tightens a little.
“Good morning,” Tadashi greets him.
“Happy birthday,” Ainosuke mutters, smile growing even brighter. Tadashi has to push back the swell of emotion he feels at not only being wished a happy birthday, but at the slight rasp that is behind the words, because Ainosuke has just barely woken and those were his first words, his first thoughts, of the day.
Tadashi smiles before trailing his hand even further down Ainosuke’s arm until he can take Ainosuke’s hand, hold it in his and bring it up to his lips for a grateful kiss. “Thank you. Now come on, it’s time to get you up.”
Rather than comply, Ainosuke tugs at the hand Tadashi is holding, attempting to pull Tadashi back into bed. “I’d rather not,” he sighs, his lazy smile still gracing his lips. “I haven’t kissed the birthday boy nearly enough yet; he needs to come back to bed so I can make up for it. At least thirty to start with, I think. To match your new age.”
Ainosuke is prone to being more affectionate in the mornings, when he’s just woken and the harsh realities and responsibilities of his life have not yet touched his mind. Tadashi has learned not to resist the behavior—it’s futile, and, in truth, Ainosuke’s morning fondness is something that he is silently grateful for. Tadashi would give anything to allow them both to lounge in bed together all day, to shield his beloved from their dreary world of political games and dancing around the expectations placed upon them both. So he plays Ainosuke’s game instead, for just a moment, crawls back beneath the sheets with him at the risk of wrinkling his suit and allows Ainosuke to wrap him up in his arms.
“As I recall, we did plenty of ‘kissing’ last night,” Tadashi says coyly, snaking an arm around Ainosuke’s waist. “An early birthday present, I believe you said it was?”
“Not nearly enough,” Ainosuke replies simply, and his eyes are so soft, so bright as he stares at Tadashi until at last, he’s leaning in, pressing his lips to Tadashi’s.
They fall into it easily, having done this enough times that their lips slot together as if they were made for it, and Ainosuke’s are so pliant and inviting that Tadashi can’t help but let the man kiss him over and over and over again. They’re slow, sleepy kisses and Tadashi is just fine with that, content to take Ainosuke’s lips at this measured and easy pace for today, for tomorrow, for as many days as this life will grant him.
Still, Tadashi is inevitably the one to break the pattern. “Sorry,” he whispers, trying not to smile at the heartbroken look Ainosuke is giving him. “We really do need to get started on the day though.”
“That’s so unfair,” Ainosuke whines. “It’s your birthday!”
Tadashi frowns. “I wish you’d stop bringing that up. It’s no different from any other day of the year, really.”
“Nonsense. Your birthday is your day, you should be treated like a king, not going to work.”
“You,” Tadashi starts with amusement, bumping his forehead against Ainosuke’s, “Forgot your own birthday this year.”
“We were busy!” Ainosuke protests, his voice only growing more insistent as Tadashi slips out of his arms and out of bed. “We had that bill to block, and besides, I remembered by lunch!”
Tadashi huffs a small, fond laugh as he walks to Ainosuke’s closet. “Right, after I took you out somewhere nice and you had no idea why. If it really pains you so much, perhaps I can pick out a special suit for you to wear to celebrate today. But otherwise it’s business as usual.”
Ainosuke sits up in bed, swinging his legs off the edge. “Ahh, a special birthday suit you say?”
Tadashi stops in his tracks to turn around, giving Ainosuke an unamused stare. “The usual blue then. Got it.”
Tadashi heads back toward the closet as Ainosuke falls backward onto the bed laughing, and Tadashi tries and fails to resist the happiness that blooms within him as he hears Ainosuke call, “Ah, Tadashi, I love you!”
Tadashi emerges from the closet a moment later carrying a suit only to find Ainosuke still sitting in bed where he left him. He frowns. “Ainosuke, you really should be getting ready.”
Ainosuke glances up at Tadashi and smiles, and something’s changed. This smile is tender, more reverent. “Come here for a moment,” he says, completely ignoring Tadashi’s advice.
Tadashi resists the urge to sigh as he hangs the suit on the hook beside the bedroom door and sets out to join Ainosuke on the bed. He is stopped short, however, mere meters before reaching Ainosuke as he sees what the man has in his lap. He glances up, meets Ainosuke’s gaze for a hesitant moment, before Ainosuke is patting the bed beside him, coaxing Tadashi forward.
Tadashi sits carefully next to Ainosuke, eyes the small, square box in Ainosuke’s hands, enshrined in red wrapping paper. “What’s this?” he asks, again looking up to search Ainosuke’s face.
Ainosuke nearly laughs. “A gift, of course. Happy birthday, puppy.”
Tadashi has received birthday presents from Ainosuke in the past, but infrequently, and none as intimately given as this. Ainosuke gave him little things as a child, silly things from his pottery class or found for cheap at a gift shop during his travels abroad. As a teenager, Ainosuke had shifted to giving Tadashi lavish, expensive gifts, taking advantage of his increased access to money until he realized that Tadashi, while always appreciative of a gift from Ainosuke, did not particularly like that type of thing. As adults, once Ainosuke returned from America, birthdays became a thing of the past. Ainosuke celebrated his with friends or colleagues; Tadashi spent his alone, performing the same duties as always. It had become their normal, which was why Ainosuke had been so surprised months earlier to learn not only that it was his birthday, but that Tadashi had taken him out for it. And it’s why Tadashi had expected nothing in return, leaving him shaken at the sight of the present Ainosuke is now offering him.
Ainosuke holds out the box and Tadashi takes in, examines how pristinely wrapped it is. He thinks for a moment that Ainosuke must have enlisted someone else’s help for it to be this neat, but quickly reminds himself that Ainosuke has always been the type to work at something he finds important until he gets it right. Memories are evoked, of Ainosuke spending hours in the abandoned pool practicing the same trick over and over; of staying at the office all night with Ainosuke as he ensured that he had the votes for a bill to be considered the next day; of trying the same dish night after night because Ainosuke’s taken up cooking and is determined to be good at it. No, this gift is Ainosuke’s own work.
Which is why he treats it so delicately as he unwraps it, careful not to rip the paper or miss a single piece of tape. When he finally extracts the item within, he takes in the small, sleek black box in his hands. Not daring to look at Ainosuke now, not daring to even breathe, he lifts the lid to find a ring, cushioned against a lining of crushed black velvet. It’s a simple ring, but Tadashi’s eyes widen all the same as he examines it; silver and thick, plain except for their symbol engraved on the inside of the band, and a small round mark engraved on the front.
Tadashi remembers to breathe when Ainosuke gently takes the box from him, plucking the ring out and lifting Tadashi’s right hand. Tadashi watches silently as Ainosuke slides the band onto his ring finger, pressing a kiss to it afterward. “I wanted to do more. I want this to be more,” Ainosuke mutters, looking into Tadashi’s eyes, and Tadashi understands implicitly that he doesn’t just mean for the gift, or for his birthday. “But until then, I want you to have this, as a reminder. I want you to think of me every time you see it.”
Tadashi doesn’t need a ring to ensure that he’s thinking of Ainosuke all throughout every day, he thinks, but rather than voice that, he cups Ainosuke’s head with the hand not being held, brings him close and kisses him. “Thank you,” he says, and it doesn’t feel like enough to express how deeply affected he is, so he takes Ainosuke’s hand and presses it to his chest so that he can feel his hummingbird heartbeat. Ainosuke smiles at that, releases a breath that perhaps he’d been holding too.
Tadashi takes a moment to admire the ring, to marvel at how beautifully it sits on his finger. “What is this?” he asks, running his fingers over the mark on the ring’s face. It’s a simple engraved circle, the silver inside mostly intact but for the small crescent of dark lining the left edge.
Ainosuke takes Tadashi’s hand in both of his, rubs a thumb across the band. “It’s the phase of the moon from the night we met.” Tadashi looks up in surprise and Ainosuke’s eyes meet him there, calm, reading the question Tadashi doesn’t ask. “Of course I remember, Tadashi. That night changed my life. You changed my life.”
“Ainosuke,” Tadashi breaths, because his brain can’t come up with any other words to properly express how he’s feeling right now. His eyes sting, the unfamiliar prickle of tears pushing at the corners, so he presses his face into Ainosuke’s shoulder and hopes that Ainosuke understands how much more he means when he says, “Thank you.”
They stay there, Ainosuke holding Tadashi, running slow fingers through the hair at the nape of Tadashi’s neck as he collects himself. He wants to sit in this moment forever, to spend the rest of his life staring at his new gift. But unfortunately, Tadashi’s birthday has fallen on a weekday this year, and there’s no room for forever when there’s work to be done.
So Tadashi takes in a deep breath and leans back. “Okay. We seriously need to get going, you’re going to be late for your first meeting at this rate.”
Ainosuke actually laughs at that. “Wow, really? Right back to business, huh?”
Tadashi presses a quick kiss to Ainosuke’s lips, suddenly too shy for more, then stands. “Thank you for the gift. I… I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life. You’ve given me a wonderful birthday already, more than I deserve,” he says, still somewhat shaky in expressing how he feels, so he quickly shifts back to something more comfortable. “But my birthday has been celebrated enough now; it’s time for work.”
Ainosuke stands as well, smirking as he places his hands on Tadashi’s hips. “Oh, puppy, if you think that’s all the birthday celebrations I have planned for you today then you are sorely mistaken.”
Tadashi freezes. He’s not sure he can take much more emotion today; his threshold for it is pretty low to begin with. “Ainosuke…”
“No complaints!” Ainosuke quips, pressing a kiss to Tadashi’s cheek. “I’m taking you to dinner,” a kiss to Tadashi’s forehead, “and skating along the boardwalk, I know you love that,” a kiss to Tadashi’s nose, before his voice drops a pitch. “And don’t think I don’t have a special birthday surprise planned for tonight.” A final kiss to the lips and Ainosuke is twirling away from Tadashi, leaving him to helplessly stand and watch as Ainosuke starts stripping down for the day. He glances in the mirror behind Ainosuke, takes in the same plain appearance he’d been examining earlier that morning. Once again, nothing has changed—nothing, except for a small glint of silver that catches his eye. He clutches at the ring with his other hand, unable to keep the small smile from creeping onto his face.
Perhaps today wasn’t going to be so ordinary after all.
And perhaps that wasn’t so bad.