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It is the tail end of March when Yuuta notices the red mark Shun has made on the calendar. "Is it that time already?" Yuuta asks, tapping the date.
Shun beams at him as he ladles a cup of hot chocolate from the pot. "It was Masaki-chan's idea."
"I hate reunions," says Yuuta, sighing. "They make me feel so old."
"You've never been young," says Shun, placating him with a soft touch to his brow, and if that turns into something more -- well, it is not an original reason for their delay.
At half past noon, they walk together, hand in hand. Around their arms, they carry baskets of rice wine and dumplings, dango and mochi and bean paste and fruit. Shun's slippered feet make imprints beside Yuuta's in the dusty edge of the dirt road, indentations that remind Yuuta of Shun's permanence. Yuuta has to steal a kiss under the shade of a tree; at the outskirts Ueno Park, Shun's mouth is warm and tastes of a stolen sip of sake.
Shun shivers, under his touch. Or perhaps it is the weather. "We'll be late," says Shun, pressing his fingers against Yuuta's lips.
"We already are," says Yuuta, but he lets Shun loop his arm around his, and they make it to the meeting site with little incidence.
Chizuru and Yuuki crowd around Shun's offering of delicacies, wagashi destroyed in a manner of minutes and the wine pouring in paper cups passed around the circle. Masaki scowls at Chizuru and bites her lip at Shun's smiles, but her fingers flutter against her stomach, careful to refrain from partaking in the alcohol. Fuyuki alternates between nagging at Shun and hanging onto Mamiya's every word, ready to jump at the slightest request. Kaname pretends to watch all of this with an air of disinterest, and yet his temper is the same as it has always been in the face of Yuuki's belligerence and Chizuru's teasing. "I feel old," says Yuuta, not for the first time that day, because some things bear repeating.
"It's a good feeling, isn't it?" Shun says, quietly, and Yuuta takes the cup he offers, unable to refuse him of anything.
When the wind blows strong and cool, Yuuta presses his palm against the back of Shun's head, tangling his fingers around the curled edges of his hair, cropped short. Shun looks at him with that same besotted expression that has been on his face since they were barely old enough to fantasize about first kisses and dates, and Yuuta wonders if he himself is guilty of it too. If Shun feels something in his chest clench when Yuuta looks at him.
"Oh my god, they're doing it again." It is Kaname's voice, loud and long-suffering, that interrupts Yuuta's thoughts. He does not pull away even at Kaname's groans. "You'd think you'd grow out of looking like you're on your first date after a decade of it."
"I don't know what you're talking about," says Shun, with good humor. When he looks at Yuuta again, there is a twinkle in his eyes, and a softness Yuuta cannot help but reciprocate.
"I love you," says Yuuta, pressing closer to Shun.
"I know," says Shun, closing his eyes. "I know."
Shun tastes of sake and dango, but most of all, he tastes of youth.