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Toshinori finds mornings much more pleasant these days. Each one promises warmth; a joy he thought he’d forgotten how to feel long ago. He remembers all too well the countless mornings that were much more bleak. Compared to all he’s lived through, they’re not that far behind him.
The mornings where he’d open his eyes to the terribly familiar dull grays of his old apartment near Might Tower - sometimes to the warmer browns of his office, if his days were particularly busy. Where he’d wake alone and lie there in the rare stillness, not out of any real desire to savour it or of comfort in the quiet; but out of exhaustion. The brief reprieve from existing for everything at once. It never lasted long, the quiet. If something else didn’t break it, Toshinori would. A reprieve it might be; but Toshinori has never been able to stomach his own thoughts.
He rarely wakes alone these days. And when he does - he no longer fears the silence. His partner will return, sooner or later. This he promises. Toshinori believes him. Believes his sincerity, if not his own worthiness of it.
Shouta is awake. Toshinori can feel it without even opening his eyes; in his stillness, much more deliberate than usual. Shouta’s subdued grace is always effortless. This is different. More purposeful.
He blinks open his eyes, blithely curious. Shouta stares back at him; his dark hair lit up by the morning sunlight that cracks through the curtains. It’s bright; almost blindingly so. Toshinori welcomes it.
“Good morning,” he says through a yawn, unable and uncaring to suppress the smile that comes with Shouta’s presence.
“Morning, sunshine.” A pleasant thrill runs down Toshinori’s spine. Shouta rarely calls him that. It only makes it all the more delightful when he does. “Happy birthday.”
Toshinori rubs his eyes, studying Shouta as he does. He’s been awake for a while now. Toshinori can tell by the subtle alertness thrumming through his body. He’s had the privilege of seeing what Shouta’s like when his guard is let down; of holding him close when that hypervigilance finally switches off. The privilege of knowing those subtle differences is a precious one. “Have you been lying there waiting just to say that?”
Shouta’s answer is earnest. “I didn’t want to forget.” So simply spoken and yet such a remarkable window into the wonderful thing that is Shouta’s inimitable devotion. It still surprises Toshinori sometimes, although it shouldn’t. Shouta is rough and sharp and undoubtedly the most compassionate person Toshinori has ever known. Toshinori adores him; every piece of him.
He shakes his head, laughing softly. He leans forward to press a kiss to Shouta’s forehead; brushing aside tangled hair as he does. “I wouldn’t have minded.”
“You never do.” There’s a tinge of sadness to Shouta’s words, but Toshinori pays it no mind. It’s a part of them as much as anything else; the quiet grief. The memory of pain and suffering they were helpless to protect each other from, for reasons as complex as all that lies behind them. Nothing is as simple as this. As loving Shouta; as Shouta loving him.
He hums, a quiet consensus. “I appreciate it nonetheless. Thank you, Shouta.”
Shouta huffs; the one that means you don’t need to thank me for the bare minimum, idiot. He doesn’t say anymore, however, opting instead to nestle his face comfortably against Toshinori’s neck. “Do you usually do anything for the occasion?” he asks, breath comfortably warm against Toshinori’s skin. “’Zashi and I usually go out drinking. Figure that’s not your scene.”
Toshinori hasn’t celebrated his birthday since before his injury. Acknowledged it, yes; more with dull relief than anything else. That he’d made it another year. That he was one step closer to fulfilling Mirai’s prophecy.
Mornings are pleasant, now. Maybe something as mundane as a birthday can be too.
“Not really,” he murmurs, slipping a wandering hand to tangle in Shouta’s hair at the base of his neck. “Never had the time.”
“Is there anything you wanted to do?” Shouta asks it like a plea. As if, whatever Toshinori asked of him, he would shake the foundations of the very earth beneath them to make it happen.
It’s a sweet sentiment, but unnecessary. All Toshinori could want is right here: in the sweet warmth of their shared bedroom.
“A few more moments of peace would be nice,” he says, quiet to maintain the gentle bubble of calm. It’s never something he’s been able to hold onto, the quiet. To wish for the same way he encouraged others to. Toshinori was never able to tolerate quiet.
Until Shouta.
“Hm.” Shouta draws back. This time it’s his hands that reach for Toshinori, cupping his face in a firm hold that sends fireworks across his skin. “Sounds simple enough.”
“You’d be surprised,” Toshinori says with a half-smile, the same tinge to his voice that had plagued Shouta moments before.
Shouta snorts, fond. “Maybe not for the world,” he mutters, voice warm. “But for us? I think we’re doing okay.”
The warmth permeates Toshinori’s body; settles within his aching bones, sets alight every nerve that rests beneath his skin. “Yeah,” he murmurs, the word more of an overflow of emotion than anything else. He’s still learning how to be speechless for something as sweet as this. For the weight of the joy he feels to take his words from him in a way that doesn’t hurt.
He brushes Shouta’s hair aside with a thumb, pressing a kiss to the scars that adorn his right eye. Terrible proof of the wars he’s fought and lost and won. Scars that Shouta says could never compare to the one that tarnishes his side - but that Toshinori looks upon in aching wonder.
Shouta has never hesitated to do what's right. To put his life on the line for others. Toshinori admires it and fears what it means all the same. He supposes Shouta's felt the same way. They're both just as self-sacrificial in their own right.
Toshinori finds himself more tired of that now than ever before. It doesn't change their fight. Doesn't change that Toshinori will do whatever it takes for a brighter future, just as Shouta will. But these days, he wants just as much to be there to see it. As long as Shouta is the one standing by his side.
He kisses Shouta's eyelid again and feels only bliss. “Here’s to another year," he murmurs, and means it.
Shouta hums an agreement before he captures Toshinori's lips against his own. "Better make it count."