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Mika didn't think that what he said was all that funny— not that he can remember what he said just a few seconds ago. With his focus stolen by the unfamiliar contortions Shu's face is making, the memory slips out of him like there's a hidden leak in his head making it even emptier than usual.
It starts with a barely contained shaking of the shoulders, Shu's hand rising to cover the inevitable distortion of his features. Soft sounds and sharp gasps are unceasing in their assault, and it becomes a losing battle when Shu is forced to clutch the arm of the couch for support. Mika thinks Shu is sobbing at first and has apologies, consolations, and an encasing embrace ready with only a moment's preparation— but then, Shu smiles.
Shu has many smiles: the ones he wears when struck by inspiration, when a difficult sewing project sees its completion on the form of its intended model, when Valkyrie sells out another venue — for as much as he denies caring for the opinions of the masses, he does enjoy having his art ("Our art, Kagehira.") appreciated — when watching Mika finally perfect a new choreography, when he returns home to Mika's freshly baked croissants (practicing to get the recipe right turned out to be more difficult than even some of their performances), when he so gently lays Mika down on their soft shared bed and looks at him like he is something worth admiring.
The smile adorning Shu's face now is unlike anything Mika has seen before. It's not smug, or proud, or soft, or elegant, or beautiful, or any other word Mika could use to describe Shu at any given moment. It's curved and wobbly and doesn't sit right on his face, and Mika prays that if he must forget everything else, may this sight at least stay with him.
He is shaking uncontrollably now, doubled over with arms holding his stomach like he's going to shatter if he doesn't hold himself together. Salty tears stream from tightly shut eyes, following the lines formed by his now-open mouth and collecting at his chin, waiting to fall. Desperate gasps tear through his body amidst the laughing.
Shu's laugh is powerful like the way he sings on stage, demanding the audience's attention lest they be left behind and forgotten in his conquest of Heaven. The only one watching this time is Mika, and he is enthralled.
Somehow, Shu Itsuki seems more open and vulnerable in this moment — experiencing the joys of living — than he ever did while crying tears of rage and despair into the shoulder of Mika's shirt.
Mika finds that the joy is contagious. His own face splits and twists into a caricature of itself, and he's sure that if he were to look into a mirror, he would be taken aback by the sight of such a human emotion gracing it. They've had to learn how to live as humans together— how to feel as humans together. If this is the next stop on their journey — after all the pain and love and healing — then he will happily experience joy together with his life's partner.
He leans into Shu, grasping at his shirt and burying his face into his chest, the thump thump of a racing heart beating against him. Shu's head falls near Mika's, and he feels teardrops stain his shoulder like so many times in the past, but this time, they are born of happiness. Mika belatedly realizes that he has started crying, as well, wetting the spot where he rests against Shu's chest.
Shu repositions his arms to be holding Mika, tight like he's his last lifeline. Their shaking and laughter is beginning to die down, now, softening into a warm buzz in the same spot he normally gets headaches. His stomach hurts like he just finished one of Shu's relentless workout routines ("It is imperative to stay healthy!"), and he feels lightheaded like Shu just kissed him and sucked out all the air in his body with it.
They sit together, embracing and silent in the wake of their exhaustion. Mika never knew laughing could be so tiring. He peels back a little, daring to steal a glance at Shu's expression. A more familiar smile has taken its spot on Shu's face— the soft kind, like he doesn't believe words are necessary to express what he's feeling, so he simply delivers unto Mika the adoration stored in his eyes. Mika accepts and returns it in equal measure, no longer fearing the consequences of being loved.
A pressing of lips naturally finds its way into the silence. Shu's are wet and salty, and Mika decides to lick around his face like a cat, cleaning him of the mess. Shu makes a slight noise of disgust, but doesn't do anything to stop him as residual jovialities tickle his frame.
Shu's voice is hoarse when he's able to speak again. "We were supposed to be discussing our upcoming work and then making dinner, but you've put us behind schedule and caused my throat to be in need of rest for potentially the next few days. How do you intend to make up for your blunder, Kagehira?" He uses Mika's surname on purpose; they have long since become accustomed to calling one another by their given names. His words are harsh, but the tone of his voice and the expression on his face betray the true lightheartedness of them.
"Nnah, ain'tcha the one who started laughin' in the first place, though?"
"And whose fault was that?"
Mika feigns a show of defiance, pouting and sticking his tongue out at Shu, refusing to take responsibility for his actions.
Shu responds by drawing close and nipping his outstretched tongue like some kind of petty bird that wants attention.
Mika yelps and tries to move away, but Shu follows him, pushing him onto his back to the couch cushions and lightly pinning his shoulders down.
"You need to atone, Kagehira." His voice deepens, still gravelly from their earlier bout of revelry.
And who is Mika to deny the man above him his due amends when he is staring down with such intensity, the overhead lights framing his tousled hair like a halo? His angel desires recompense, and he shall receive it.
As Shu descends on him to bestow his blessings, Mika can't help but think, I love ya.