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“Danke. Schönen Tag.” Wakatoshi bids the taxi driver farewell, using the few words of German his colleagues on the Polish team have taught him. He hopes he will get by with his mediocre English. Satori said it would be alright, but he had also said that about Paris.
It’s only a short walk to the hotel from where the cab dropped him off. Wakatoshi follows the directions on his phone through narrow cobblestone streets, lined by half-timber houses. People huddle together in front of the many small shops or follow the colorful banners showing the direction of the Christmas market and chocolate festival.
The hotel turns out to be more of an inn, and one of the wooden beams on its facade proudly displays 1561. Getting the second key for the room Satori booked them goes smoothly and Wakatoshi moves to bow thankfully at the elderly receptionist, then stops himself and settles for an awkward nod. His team has made good-natured fun of that before, but the lady just smiles and wishes him a pleasant stay.
Their shared room isn’t big or anything special, yet he feels at home immediately. Mainly because it’s a mess and that alone screams Satori. Clothes are everywhere; two huge bags are open on the floor, various boxes lined up next to the bed. A hastily scribbled note is pinned to the headboard: can’t wait to see you <3 sorry for the mess!
A small smile plays on Wakatoshi’s lips as he puts his own luggage away neatly, takes a seat on the bed and pulls a small velvet pouch from his travelling bag to slip it into his coat’s pocket instead. His fingers trace the ring inside the fabric for a moment and he takes a deep breath.
For half a year he has kept it close, waiting for the right time. He is still not sure whether this is the perfect moment or what even constitutes the perfect moment, but he is determined not to go back to Poland without making his move.
Still toying with the ring absently, he takes out his phone to open their conversation and type a quick I’m at the hotel, before scrolling up to the directions Satori sent him. The hotel was easy enough to find, so it can’t be too hard to find the festival stall.
****
He might have underestimated that. The old city center is a maze of narrow, winding streets, and finding the town square hosting the festival proves to be not exactly a simple task, as the directions of his GPS and the pointing banners don’t match. Wakatoshi considers his options for a moment and decides to follow the crowd. More and more Christmas decorations adorn the houses he passes, so he must be going in the right direction.
After a few twists and turns, the street opens up the view on a grand marketplace filled with large white pavilions and richly ornamented Christmas trees. Huge half-timber houses surround the place and are illuminated with pralines, cacao beans and baubles dancing on their facades. The square is filled with people, laughter, and the overwhelming smell of chocolate wafting through the air.
After a while, Wakatoshi finds the stall and his heart skips a beat when he spots the familiar shock of red hair through the crowd. Stopping a few feet away, he watches his boyfriend work for a moment. Satori is dressed in a dark red chef’s jacket worn over a thick woolen sweater and hands out chocolates for his customers to try, beaming, joking and talking animatedly in at least three different languages. A warm feeling washes over Wakatoshi and a proud smile tugs on his lips.
As if sensing his presence, Satori looks up and finds him in the crowd. First, his eyes go wide, then a magnificent smile appears on his lips and he waves enthusiastically, causing some people to stare in curiosity. Wakatoshi waits politely until the customers move on before he walks up to the counter.
“Hey hey, Wakatoshi,” Satori beams at him and winks. “Care for some chocolate?”
“Hello, Satori.” It has been a while since they have seen each other in person, and his grip tightens around the pouch in his pocket. When he notices, he lets go again and relaxes his fingers. “Are you still busy?”
“Nah, I can leave anytime. Henri will be back any moment, and Monique is doing great. Oh, have you met her?” Satori turns towards a petite woman in her early twenties, working at the register. He remembers only Henri from one of his trips to Paris, so he introduces himself in English.
Monique shoots an amused glance at Satori. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I might have talked about you a teeny-weeny tiny bit,” Satori admits and starts unbuttoning his chef’s jacket to change into his coat. “I’ll be right there.”
While he makes his way around the stall Wakatoshi looks at the elaborate chocolates. Every kind is a little work of art depicting typical French souvenirs and Christmas tokens. Satori’s famous chocolate volleyballs are presented alongside miniature croissants, sprinkled with golden dust. A small sign below proclaims ‘dark chocolate with mint filling’.
“Alrighty~, let’s get going!” Satori appears beside him and leans in for a kiss. Wakatoshi tenses for a second, but no one recognizes them here except for Satori’s colleagues, and they know about their relationship, so he relaxes into the kiss.
“C’mon, I’ll show you around,” Satori says, a fond smile on those lips he would like to kiss again, as he tugs on his arm.
They stroll around the market, and Satori takes his right hand, interlocking their fingers loosely. Most stalls are selling pralines and huge chunks of broken chocolate, but there are also various performances and workshops. Reluctantly, he agrees to try some less sweet chocolates while Satori tries just about everything. He would worry about him upsetting his stomach if he didn’t know better by now—there seems to be no limit to the amount of chocolate his best friend can consume.
Satori has been here for two days, but he’s still getting excited about the many countries represented, the quality, the art, and he keeps pointing it all out to Wakatoshi. He understands only a fraction, but he loves seeing his boyfriend this excited. Sometimes he wonders whether Satori realizes that he is not just working among the best of the trade, he truly is one of them.
“Ooh, I know him from that workshop I did in Switzerland once,” Satori exclaims, jolting him out of his reflections and points at a man with an impressive schnauzer. “I’ll be right back.” He slips away, and his acquaintance immediately gestures for him to come inside the tent. Satori turns around with a questioning look and Wakatoshi gives him a sign that he will wait next to a fountain still running despite the cold. On his way over, he takes a brief detour to a stall where Satori was crazy for the Black Forest kirsch truffles and buys a small box of five.
While he waits for Satori at the fountain, a vague idea forms, and he toys with the pouch in his pocket, considering. Giving in to his sudden impulse, Wakatoshi places the box of pralines on the broad rim of the fountain, takes the ring out of its pouch and swaps it with the truffle resting in the center. It feels like hiding evidence when he slips the spare praline past his lips, closes the box carefully and hides it in his coat’s left pocket.
As he watches Satori bid his goodbyes, he realizes once more how far they have come since high school. They have worked hard on their careers and they’ve worked equally hard on maintaining their relationship, dealing with time zones and long-distance loneliness, barely seeing each other in person for years. He doesn’t believe in soulmates, but he can’t deny that their bond runs deeper than anything he has ever felt before. While Satori claims that he is a pillar of strength for him, he can’t say exactly the same. Satori has always been curiously elusive for him, a dream to chase, adding another layer to his life that is hard to grasp.
He doesn’t know when or how they will be able to get married or finally live together. But it has never been about figuring everything out from the start, it has always been about continuously moving closer, from being able to afford plane tickets to playing for a European club. Some may say it’s all his effort, but he likes it that way, needs it—Satori setting the goal to strive for and offering him something nothing else can when you are in an endless pursuit of greater heights: the finishing line.
****
They leave the busy center at some point. Wakatoshi has long since lost all sense of direction, but he trusts Satori to know where they’re going. Light snow has started to fall, muffling all sounds and enveloping the nocturnal city in a sense of peace and quiet.
On top of a narrow stone bridge across a small stream, Satori suddenly stops to look at the scenery. Old houses frame the small square and the heavy boughs of an old tree decorated with stars and fairy lights almost dip into the water running below, twinkling lights reflecting on the surface. Even now, some people sit outside a bar on the far end of the square, covered in thick blankets and drinking spiced wine.
Wakatoshi watches Satori lean against the parapet, and something about it tugs at his heartstrings. He looks happy, content, like he belongs here.
“Satori… do you want to stay in Europe?” He didn’t intend to ask, but it slips out nonetheless. There is a long, thoughtful pause before Satori answers, never ripping his gaze from the water flowing below.
“Yeah, I do. Can’t say forever but… I like it, Toshi. There’s still stuff to learn, y’know? I might go to Belgium for a bit or Switzerland…,” he trails off and turns around to face Wakatoshi. A shadow flickers across his expression and he tilts his head warily. “Why d’you ask? Are you thinkin' about going back? Or somewhere else? Did you get an offer?”
Wakatoshi knits his brows, realizing the misunderstanding he provoked, and shakes his head. “No, not yet.” There always are offers, but by now he has the luxury of choosing freely which ones to take. He can’t say for sure that he would decline an offer taking him somewhere else, but right now, he is content. His team is strong, the Polish league and the European league are strong. There is still some language barrier, but he has grown fond of Europe, of the small distances. They are still hiding their relationship, no more than best friends to the public, but it’s easier to bear with opportunities like this weekend.
Satori is still watching him with a hint of doubt, and he wonders if this is the moment. It might as well be, before he has to explain how that topic came up, so he takes a steadying breath and pulls the little red box from his pocket. He considers going down to one knee for a moment, but it would draw too much attention and the ground is wet with snow slush. Before he can react, Satori suddenly rips the box from his fingers, eyes sparkling like a kid’s under the Christmas tree.
“Ooh, you bought those?? You really shouldn’t keep 'em in your pocket, Toshi, they’ll melt!”
Taken completely aback, he can only stare for a few heartbeats. Satori hasn’t opened the box yet, but he seems to be about to and there is nothing to be done about it without spoiling the surprise. Left with no other choice, he goes with it and clears his throat. “I got them for you. You seemed to be very fond of them.”
“I am! I wanted to go back to get 'em, but then I forgot! Why didn’t ya say something? They’d given me a discount,” Satori rambles on, already fiddling with the bow. “I can have a taste, right?”
A small, fond smile tugs at the corners of Wakatoshi’s lips at Satori’s excitement and in anticipation of the surprise. He thought he might be nervous when the fabled big moment comes, but he isn’t, except for a slight worry that Satori might drop the box. It might not be the perfect moment based on classic standards, but it feels right and there never was anything to be afraid of.
The ribbon falls, Satori opens the box—and freezes. His eyes flicker up to meet Wakatoshi’s, then back down. He licks his lips but makes no sound and his hand shakes slightly.
“Satori.” Wakatoshi clears his throat again and takes his hand, rubbing his fingers in soothing circles, coaxing him to look up and meet his eyes. “I don’t know how or when it can be made possible. I will play another five years, ten if I’m lucky. I don’t know what will come afterwards, but I want to be close to you. I’ve kept you waiting long enough-”
“That’s not… that’s not how it is,” Satori cuts in, his eyes large and shimmering in the dark. “I wanted to be here and you-”
“Satori,” he interrupts him, gently drawing him closer. “I don’t know life without volleyball. It has been the biggest part of my life as long as I can remember, but so have you, since the moment we met. There is a limit to how long I can play, but I hope there is no limit to being with you.”
Satori blinks, tears in his eyes, and his lips quiver as he closes the box to place it down on the parapet carefully. “There isn’t,” he assures quietly, and his voice doesn’t waver. “I’ll be there. I’ll always be there. I don’t mind waiting a little longer.” He laughs a little breathlessly, blinks again and lets go of Wakatoshi’s hand to rub the tears from his face, already forming frozen trails on his cheeks.
“So… are you going to pop the question, or…?” He asks, teasing, tilts his head and smiles. It’s this smile, making Wakatoshi feel the gravity of the moment more than anything else and his throat suddenly feels tight while a loving warmth floods his core.
“Please marry me, Satori.”
Satori moves closer, grinning broadly while still blinking tears away, and Wakatoshi absently places a hand on the box on the parapet so it won’t accidentally be knocked over. Satori places his hand on top, interlinking their fingers and pulls him closer.
“Sure thing, Miracle Boy. I will,” he answers against Wakatoshi’s lips before capturing them in a fervent kiss. On a small bridge in a foreign town in a foreign country, everything falls into place and it tastes like home. Home, Wakatoshi has long since realized, is not a place, it’s a person. It’s a feeling. And it’s right there in his arms.