Work Text:
Ever since they graduated—and especially since they managed to pool enough resources to move in together—Toya has gotten into the habit of picking Akito up from work. Very little deters him. Not rain, not freezing cold or searing heat, not even his own (rather sporadically scheduled) shifts at the WEEKEND GARAGE. It’s long since become routine, Akito pushing his way through the shop’s double doors only to be met with the sight of Toya loitering nearby, perhaps with an umbrella in hand, or a pair of cold drinks for them to share on their walk home, or a few convenience store and/or arcade goodie bags slung over his shoulder. Akito doesn’t freeze in place anymore, and his coworkers no longer make teasing remarks and various kissy noises at his back.
But today, Akito does end up freezing halfway out the door.
Because Toya isn’t leaned up against the nearest utility pole like usual. Instead, he’s sitting in a silver sedan that Akito’s 85% sure belongs to the Tenmas, windows rolled down, idly thumbing through his phone.
Abruptly curious, Akito ignores his boss’s belated farewell and makes his way over to where Toya is parked. It’s a fifteen minute walk to their apartment from here—definitely not far enough to justify borrowing a car.
Interesting.
Toya looks up as Akito gets closer, and his features melt into a warm smile. The same warm smile that sends Akito’s stupid heart stuttering, even after all these years. “Hey,” he says softly. “How was work?”
Akito leans against the car, dropping his elbows onto the open window frame. The temptation to lean in a little more and steal a quick kiss is too strong to resist (Toya is too damn pretty for his own good), so he does just that. “Work was whatever,” he says as he pulls back. His work day is the last thing on his mind; there’s a much more pressing matter to address. He lightly kicks at one of the sedan’s tires, grinning. “What’s with the car, man?”
“Tsukasa is letting me borrow it for the day.”
A decisively uninformative explanation, but Akito bites back the urge to comment on that. He pushes himself up and trails around the front of the car to the passenger side. “So am I right in assuming we’re not going home right now?” he asks as he pops the door open.
Toya nods and turns his phone off. The cup holders are occupied by two cans soaked in condensation—cold black coffee for himself and lemon-lime soda for Akito—but he manages to slip his phone between them all the same. Akito eyes the drinks, taking note of how Toya’s coffee hasn’t even been opened yet. He loves that shit; there are days when he’ll drain an entire can in less than a minute. The fact that he hasn’t touched it at all proves his mind must be elsewhere.
… Alright…
Akito slides into the car and drops himself onto the passenger seat. “You’re not even going to let me go take a shower and get changed first?” he asks, only half-teasing. He’s in his work clothes—a faded black t-shirt with the shop’s garish logo printed on both sides and a pair of jeans that probably need to go in the wash now—and he can’t help but notice Toya’s dressed… more crisply than he is. A perfectly white shirt, an acid-washed jean jacket, black pants…
It’s stupid, because Toya has seen him looking a hell of a lot worse than saggy work clothes after a long day, but a hot wave of self-consciousness still washes over him.
Meanwhile, Toya pauses, like he hadn’t considered the possibility Akito might want to do that at all. Hell, he probably didn’t. He can be frustratingly single-minded at times (Akito knows he’s one to talk, but still!). “No,” he says after a moment. “No. We’re just going to go.” He reaches up and turns the ignition key, and the car purrs as it comes to life.
Akito raises his eyebrows. That’s a little surprising, but Toya can be really, really single-minded, so… He shrugs. “Alright.” If today had been hotter, he would have pressed the issue and insisted on going home first. But as it is, the temperature outside is quite mild, so he supposes it isn’t a big deal.
Toya waits until Akito has buckled his seat belt before he takes the car out of park. He glances over his shoulder as he backs it up, just a little, just enough to put some distance between the tires and the sidewalk curb, before turning back around and pulling forward. Slowly, down the heavily pigmented asphalt of Vivid Street.
“Sooo…” Akito drawls out, and Toya’s eyes momentarily flick towards him. “Where are we going?”
“Out,” Toya says simply.
Akito snorts. Toya’s gotten better at fully verbalizing his thoughts over the years, so these short, extremely unhelpful responses have to be on purpose. Bastard. “‘Out’ like a date, or…?”
Eyes briefly meeting Akito’s once more, Toya smiles. “Maybe.”
“You are so unromantic,” Akito laments, throwing his head back against his seat. “You’re dragging me out on a date in my work clothes.”
Toya chuckles quietly.
Akito spends the next few minutes glaring at his incredibly annoying and incredibly beautiful boyfriend, a glare that he’s certain Toya can see out of his peripherals but pointedly ignores. Only a few minutes though, before he sighs and lets the overdramatic irritation go. It’s unlikely Toya’s taking him to a fancy restaurant or anything of the sort. Not only would he have let him go home to dress properly first, but extravagant dates aren’t in their budget anyway.
They aren’t teenagers anymore, free to blow their money on cafes and arcades (although keeping Toya out of arcades entirely is a losing battle; he’s learned some semblance of restraint since they were 16 and Akito supposes that’s as good as they’re going to get). The rent for their shoddy one-bedroom apartment—complete with luxury features like an ancient, temperamental water heater and flimsy shoji doors that never stay on their tracks—takes up most of their finances. Everything left over goes towards bills and food. Sure, they have the safety net of Toya’s stupid rich family and a bonus safety net in the form of the Tenmas, who are also stupid rich—but Akito is determined to never need either one. He and Toya will make this work on their own. Entirely on their own. Cheesy dates and various silly trinkets are just the necessary sacrifice.
Akito plucks his near-forgotten soda out of the cup holder. The sheer amount of condensation almost makes the can slip right back out of his hand, and he ends up wiping off the worst of it with the hem of his shirt. Whatever, right? He pops it open—slowly, to make sure it doesn’t bubble over and make a mess of the Tenmas’ car—and takes a quick drink. The carbonation burns his tongue and the back of his throat as he swallows, but it’s a satisfying, refreshing feeling.
Toya insists he’s insane for thinking it is.
Leaning into the heady breeze from the open window, Akito props his chin up with his unoccupied hand. It’s spring, so the city is alight with cherry blossoms. Something in his heart swells as he watches the world rush by in a blur of striking pink. He can’t help but feel overwhelming fondness for this time of year.
He confessed his feelings to Toya around this same time, after all.
They were in their second year of high school, and it was towards the end of the bloom season so there was more petals on the ground than there was in the trees. But that doesn’t matter; it was still spring, and they were still surrounded by flowers. It’s simultaneously the most wonderful and the most embarrassing memory of Akito’s life.
Embarrassing, because he was so nervous he almost cried as he clumsily laid out his true feelings for Toya.
Wonderful, because Toya had smiled, so dazzling and affectionate and warm, before saying, “I feel the same way. I… like you a lot.” And then Akito—in all his stupid impulsive teenaged glory—practically tackled him, throwing his arms around his neck, and he kissed him. There, under the half-shed cherry blossom trees just outside of Kamiyama High. He had to stand painfully on his tiptoes and the angle of their heads was all wrong and Toya’s lips were chapped, but Akito had been wanting to kiss him so, so, so badly for so long that he couldn’t think of it as anything less than perfect.
And then the memory becomes embarrassing again, because Toya soon lost his balance and fell backwards, bringing Akito right down with him. A flurry of stray cherry blossom petals flew up around them as they crashed into the concrete. The sight would have been breathtaking—if Toya hadn’t ended up with a concussion and Akito with a sprained wrist. It’s an incident Akito has yet to live down; he doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Kohane laugh as hard as she did when he haltingly explained why they would have to cancel their next live show.
But even so, there’s something wonderful to be found deep within that mortifying embarrassment. A second after they fell, they both burst out laughing, and there was a deeply dazed look in Toya’s eyes but he managed to pull Akito down for another kiss, and they were kissing and kissing and kissing and then Akito pulled back enough to press quick little kisses all over Toya’s stupid pretty face—taking extra care to kiss the mole under his eye, and the mole on the corner of his mouth, and the mole on the side of his nose—and his ensuing giggles were so damn cute Akito felt like crying again.
(And then the moment was ruined because Akito had to haul Toya to his feet and lug him over to the nearest trashcan because the concussion-induced nausea kicked in. But he still treasures it all.)
He can feel his cheeks starting to flush now, so he quickly puts the memories back where they belong. He doesn’t need Toya glancing over at him and asking why his face is bright red—not when the only explanation he would be able to give is “Because I’m grossly in love with you and can’t stop thinking about you.” Which, granted, Toya already knows, but… Ugh.
He downs about half of his soda in one go to give himself something else to focus on. It’s as he’s lowering the can, sinuses burning, that he notices their surroundings have changed significantly. The monotonous architecture of the city has fallen away and in its place are more trees, more greenery, more rolling and sloping fields and hills.
“Babe. Where the hell are we going?” he asks, turning his head to look over at Toya.
“We’re almost there,” he replies.
“That’s not what I asked.”
In lieu of a response, Toya makes a sudden turn, and Akito lurches in his seat as the asphalt gives way to an uneven dirt road. He pulls up alongside a small roadside picnic area. It must not be a popular stopping point, even for tourists who stop for everything, because the place looks a little unkempt. There’s more weeds covering the ground than anything else, including grass. Not far from where Toya is parking them now, Akito can see a small shrine framed by even smaller fox statues—or are they tanukis? He can’t tell from here. But even that appears to be overgrown with moss and various weeds.
The place’s saving grace is the cherry blossom tree. It’s huge, bigger than anything growing in town. Curtains of heavy blossoms hang from every gnarled branch, swaying in the light breeze. The whole thing appears to be bowed forward, like it’s struggling to support itself. Partially obscured by a particularly long blossom strand is a single picnic table. Completely covered in stray pink petals, of course.
Akito can’t quite take his eyes off of it—he didn’t know cherry blossoms could grow like this. Every tree in the city is trimmed and carefully contained, never taking up too much space. But this… This is wild, raw nature. Growing as it pleases, without a single care in the world. Growing, growing, and growing some more until the day it will inevitably buckle under its own weight.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Toya’s voice snaps him out of whatever awestruck reverie he got himself caught in. He tears his eyes from the tree and meets Toya’s warm, loving gaze.
Too warm, too loving. Akito quickly glances away; he still isn’t sure how to cope with that… look Toya gives him so often. It makes his heart ache in the best way. “Cherry blossoms are always pretty,” he mutters. He unbuckles his seat belt and turns to open the car door. “Is that why you dragged me out here? To have a picnic?”
“No.” Toya opens his own door and swings his legs out of the footwell. “I was going to pack us food, but…” He fails to finish his sentence as he pushes himself out of the car entirely, Akito quickly following suit.
Slamming the door shut behind him, Akito relishes in the feeling of finally being able to stretch out his legs. He’s never liked car rides much; sitting in a cramped space for significant stretches of time doesn’t agree with him. “So why are we out here then?” he asks, throwing Toya an inquisitive look over his shoulder.
Toya doesn’t respond. Instead, he moves to meet Akito on the other side of the car and takes his hand into his own and gently tugs him towards the lone table under the cherry blossom tree. Akito lets himself be pulled along, taking silent note of how clammy Toya’s palm is.
Why?
After wiping the bench clean of flower petals, they sit down together. Close, knees knocking, hands still intertwined, facing the far-off horizon. The sun is nearing the last stretches of its daily descent, casting the world in shades of gold. A sudden wave of sleepiness washes over Akito—everything is just so soft, and warm, and comfortable right now. And while work was uneventful today, he’s learned the hard way that full eight hour shifts are uniquely exhausting in of themselves.
He drops his head onto Toya’s shoulder and squeezes his hand tighter. “Are you ever going to tell me why we’re out here?” he murmurs.
Inhaling shakily, Toya nods. “Yeah. Yeah, just…” He pulls his (very sweaty) hand away, which gets Akito to lift his head a bit. “You… You know I love you, right?”
“You only tell me every day,” Akito says, offering up a small smile. “I love you too, partner.”
The words work their magic. Despite his clear nervousness, the corners of Toya’s eyes crinkle as he smiles back. Only fleetingly though, his expression falling again as he looks out at the setting sun. “And,” he begins a moment later, “you remember how I said I want to be with you for the rest of my life, right?”
Akito’s heartbeat quickens suddenly—where is this going? He sits up now, any and all drowsiness evaporating in favor of apprehension. “I…” He frowns. “I remember that, yeah,” he whispers.
Of course he remembers. They had still been in their first year of high school, and Toya had just finished showing him, An, and Kohane the first song he ever wrote. His words had punched a hole right through Akito’s chest, and when he got home that night he screamed into his pillows until Ena yelled at him to shut up.
Toya closes his eyes and nods vaguely, taking in another shuddery breath. He slips his hand into one of his jacket’s pockets, and Akito watches as he pulls out—
… A small black box?
Akito stares blankly at it. The sun reflects harshly off of the smooth surface, producing an almost painful glare, but he continues to stare at it. He can’t fathom why Toya would have this. It looks almost like a jewelry box, so why—
Wait.
Toya stands up.
Wait.
He turns to face Akito directly and, box centered in front of his chest, slowly lowers himself onto—
WAIT.
Akito only catches a glimpse of the rings before he’s sinking in on himself and covering his red-hot face with his hands. Matching silver bands, and he’s almost certain there’s a little moon engraved into one so he’s pretty sure he can guess what the other one looks like.
“You’re proposing to me,” Akito says into his hands. “You’re fucking proposing to me.” There’s a lump in his throat, but he’s not going to cry. He’s not, he’s not, he’s not—
Toya wavers with uncertainty as he asks, “Is… Is that a bad thing—?”
“I was supposed to do it,” Akito whines, still hiding behind his hands. “I-I was going to— y-you weren’t… this isn’t… Fuck, this isn’t fair, goddammit.” Heat is building up rapidly in the corners of his eyes and it’s getting harder and harder to swallow against that fucking lump.
“… Akito,” Toya says after a moment, adoration softening his voice.
“Don’t say my name like th-that!!” The demand sounds pathetic, even to his own ears. His words are coming out too thick and choppy.
“Look at me, Akito.”
“No!” he cries out, but he does nothing as Toya leans in to shoo his hands away from his face. He lets them drop onto his lap, leaving his face exposed in all its splotchy red teary-eyed chin-wobbling glory. “Y-You’re unbelievable,” he rebukes weakly. “You weren’t supposed to…” He has to pause to sniffle, his eyes wandering from Toya’s patient, loving smile to the open ring box still in one of his hands.
Neither ring is particularly extravagant. He had been right about them being sun-and-moon themed. The moon ring is a darker silver than the sun, creating a pretty contrast. A gemstone sits in the center of the sun ring’s carving, and similar, tiny gems are dotted along the moon’s band. He can’t tell what they are, but he’s sure Toya will tell him and there will be some sappy meaning behind them that will make him want to cry even more—
A choked hiccup escapes him and he ends up hiding behind his hands again.
Toya sighs—fondly—and shuffles forward, one hand coming to rest on Akito’s knee. “Why wasn’t I supposed to propose?” he asks, clearly bemused.
“Because I was going to do it. Asshole,” Akito mumbles.
“What, in another twenty years?” Toya retorts playfully. “I decided you weren’t going to make me wait again. Like you did in high school.”
“I wasn’t going to make you wait.” Toya’s right. It probably would have taken him years to build up the courage to propose—but he can’t just admit that. “Just… Just needed to save up the money—” He halts in the middle of his excuse, mind suddenly snagging on something, and slowly drops his hands from his face of his own accord. “Wait, how… how did you…?”
Toya closes the ring box, briefly leaning forward to carefully set it down on the bench. He takes both of Akito’s hands now and locks their fingers together—likely to prevent anymore hiding. “My parents paid for them,” he says simply.
“You…” Akito swallows. “You told your parents you were going to p-p-propose”—it’s horribly embarrassing, how he trips up over that word, like a primary schooler who’s too shy to say the word ‘kiss’—“to me…?”
Toya tilts his head curiously. “Mhm? I also told Tsukasa. That’s why he lent me the car today. And I told Saki. And I told Ena—she and Mizuki helped me pick out the rings. An and Kohane know too, and so does Ken-san. An wanted me to propose at the cafe, with everyone around, but I knew you wouldn’t like that. But that’s why I didn’t pack us any food. She wants to at least throw a party at the cafe when we get back into town. I also told Tono and Kotaro—”
Akito’s head is reeling. It’s just blow after blow after blow—although this certainly explains why everyone’s been so giggly around him, smirking and whispering and giving each other knowing looks right over his head. “Is… Is there anyone that doesn’t know?” he manages to choke out.
Toya pauses. He thinks for a long moment—too long—before smiling sheepishly up at Akito. “Luka-san wasn’t around when I told the other virtual singers?”
“Oh my god,” Akito mutters. Instinctively, he tries to shield his face with his hands again, but Toya keeps a firm hold on them.
“You know,” Toya says, “you didn’t even let me ask the question.”
Embarrassment over how many people knew of and helped Toya with his proposal plans momentarily distracted Akito from the urge to start sobbing uncontrollably, but now it all comes rushing back to him. His throat constricts painfully and he struggles to swallow. He can barely maintain eye contact with Toya right now—both because his vision is going blurry from all the tears and because Toya just looks so fucking in love with him.
Toya leans down and kisses the back of Akito’s left hand. “Akito, my love,” he begins as he lifts his head again, “will you marry me?”
Much like he did during their first kiss, Akito tackles Toya, a sob hitching up and out of his throat. Toya’s arms come up and wrap around him in an attempt to catch him, but they both knew that was never going to succeed. They crash into the overgrown, petal-covered earth, and Akito is laughing even as his internal dam breaks and the tears start falling from his eyes.
“Yes, yes, yes,” he says through the awkward sob-laughs. “Yes, I’ll marry you, yes—”
♡♡♡♡
They stay exactly as they are—Toya laid out on his back with Akito tucked in his arms, face buried in the fabric his shirt—until Akito stops crying. Which takes a long time. “Probably because you never let yourself cry,” Toya tells him as they start to pick themselves up off the ground. “You had a lot built up.”
Still trembling, Akito watches as Toya retrieves the ring box and very nearly starts crying all over again because the bastard insists on sliding the ring onto his hand for him. The sun ring is his, and it fits perfectly—so much better than all the other rings he owns. He’s not sure if it’s something about the actual make of the ring itself or if it’s the simple, known fact of what it represents.
It doesn’t particularly matter, he decides, holding his hand out to admire the sight.
Before they climb back into the Tenmas’ car, Akito pulls out his phone and demands they take a picture. It takes a little experimenting and more than just a few retakes, but they eventually figure out how to get both of their rings in the photo.
In their final take, Toya is holding the camera as far up and away from them both as he can and his left arm is wrapped around Akito’s shoulders, pressing him snugly against his side. Akito is reaching up with his left hand and, albeit awkwardly, lightly locks their fingers together, leaving plenty of room for the rings to shine through. It’s dark outside at this point, but there’s just enough lingering light from the sunken sun to catch against the rings’ silver bands. Cherry blossoms petals are stuck all over both their hair, and Toya’s in particular is sticking up every which way from laying in the dirt for so long. The low light hides the worst of Akito’s splotchy, tear-stained face, but not all of it; anyone who sees the photo will immediately know he had been crying a lot, and a second glance at Toya’s face will tell them he had fared no better.
Akito think it’s the best picture they’ve ever taken.
He sends it to Vivid BAD SQUAD’s group chat—no caption—as he and Toya climb into the car, and not even a full minute passes before his phone is buzzing wildly with an incoming call from An. Huffing fondly, he turns the screen towards Toya. “Do you think she’ll scream?” he asks.
“Definitely,” Toya says without a moment’s hesitation.
Akito raises an eyebrow. “Even though she knew you were gonna do it?”
Toya turns the ignition key. “Yup.”
Somewhat doubtful, Akito answers the call and unwisely holds the phone up to his ear. And unfortunately for him, An does scream.
… She screams a lot.