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A small pot of blue flowers has made its home in the windowsill of their office. None of the other department members have said anything about the plant’s appearance, but somebody has been diligently watering it. If Tomose had to guess, he would’ve assumed it was Kamiya’s, in another attempt to trigger his lost memories, but when he arrives to the office early one morning, he finds Yuu watering the plant, instead.
"So the plant was yours,” Tomose says.
“Yeah.” Yuu sets the watering cup back on the sill, not surprised by his appearance. Tomose is accustomed to silencing his footsteps when he walks, but Yuu can always seem to sense him.
“Why?” Tomose asks, curiously.
Yuu will do anything he thinks will be of use to Tomose, but it’s rare that he picks up new activities of his own initiative. It’s practically a miracle that he takes the time out of his day to do those short number puzzles.
"It’s supposed to be good for air quality."
Tomose looks at the plant. With its clusters of tiny delicate blossoms, it looks needy and delicate. Easier to kill than a common houseplant, at least. "Why this kind? There must be varieties easier to take care of."
"Felt like it," he says, and looks back up at Tomose. "Does it look bad? I'll get rid of it if you want me to."
"No need," Tomose says, shaking his head. Yuu is always going out of his way to fold over to him, even with the simple things. But for Yuu, who often complains about not knowing what to do with his free time, picking up a new hobby like this is a rare occasion. Tomose needs to encourage it.
He turns his gaze back to the flowers. The vibrant blue petals compliment the lush green leaves, a splash of color in their admittedly bland office, and what’s more, this particular shade of blue is reminiscent of Yuu’s hair color.
“You—” He clears his throat. “It looks nice,” he tells him.
Yuu smiles slightly. He makes a pretty picture with the flowers.
"—And you have your keys, right?"
Even Tomose has lost count of how many questions he’s asked by now, passing on from valid concern into excuses to stall, but Yuu nods and graciously stops him before he can think of another question. "Don't worry. I'll carry out the mission successfully."
The mission is important, of course, but it's not what worries him. Tomose looks Yuu in the eyes. "Not that. I don't like being away from you for too long."
"You're really honest sometimes," Yuu says, lip quirking up slightly. He adjusts his glove in thought. "By the way,” he says, looking back at the window sill, “can you take care of the flowers while I'm gone?"
“Sure,” Tomose says immediately, straightening up in his seat. It's rare that Yuu makes his own requests, but Tomose is always glad to follow them.
"They need water three times a week," Yuu says, and gestures to the watering cup. "Fill it up to the top of the tape."
"Got it," Tomose says.
Yuu smiles slightly, and leans over to kiss him briefly. Tomose blinks in surprise, but before he can respond, Yuu separates from him, all too quickly. His fingers twitch at his side. He wants to pull him in for another kiss, but he’s already stalled him enough.
"Take care," Yuu says.
“Come back safely,” Tomose says.
Tomose watches Yuu leave, exhaling as the door closes behind him. His fingers itch for a cigarette. No matter how many times it happens, he’ll never get used to sending Yuu away on missions.
Taking missions together has its own batch of problems—Yuu’s overprotectiveness quickly turns to recklessness, and he’ll throw himself into danger at the drop of a hat if he thinks it’ll help Tomose—but when he’s out of sight, out of reach, Tomose is powerless to protect him.
He looks back at the pot of flowers. He just has to trust that he’ll return home to him.
Tomose waters them with a strange sense of affection, remembering how diligently Yuu’s been taking care of them. With Yuu gone, he’s grown to appreciate the blue shade of the petals more, like a reminder of him.
But after that, an urgent mission comes for him. He's sunken into research, and then into field work, away from the office, and when it's all settled down he comes back and realizes that the flower is starting to wilt, petals browning at the edges, a pale imitation of what it used to be.
He only forgot to water it twice, but it’s already like this. Yuu must have been taking very thorough care of it, to keep something this delicate alive, and yet…
Maybe it’s not too late. Tomose fills the watering cup three times past the marked tape, and slowly pours it in circles around the roots. The dry soil eats up the water, absorbing and darkening.
It doesn’t recover.
"I'm sorry," Tomose says. "I forgot about it when I was out of the office. I tried to water it more after I realized, but it didn’t help."
Almost as soon as Yuu returned home, Tomose apologized and showed him the plant in the office, his usual joy from his return overshadowed by guilt.
Yuu reaches out to touch one of the petals, previously brilliant blue faded and dulled. "It was a high-maintenance plant," he says neutrally.
If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t let it show in his voice. But Yuu rarely lets himself show those kinds of emotions around him—even though Yuu is the only one that Tomose can let his guard down around, Yuu doesn’t allow himself the same luxury with Tomose.
"But you were taking care of it so diligently," Tomose says. "I should have—"
"Tomose," Yuu cuts him off. "You never have to apologize to me."
Tomose falters. It still unsettles him, how much of a pedestal Yuu puts him on. Yuu will trust him unconditionally and blame him for nothing, as if he could commit no possible wrong. When Yuu confessed to him and they became lovers, Tomose had hoped Yuu would learn to treat him more like an equal, but if anything, he's only gotten more vocal about how much he’s willing to sacrifice for him.
He tries to articulate himself. "But—you rarely ever ask me for favors. I wanted to—"
"It's okay," Yuu repeats. "You've already done so much for me. I don't need anything else."
"But I—"
Tomose wants to help him, too—even if Yuu acts like he has some never-ending debt of gratitude to him, after the day Tomose first helped him escape his past lifestyle, Yuu has done so, so much to help him since then that Tomose is sure he’s the one who’ll never be able to fully repay him now.
But before Tomose can say any of this, Yuu presses their lips together, cutting him off with a kiss. Tomose’s shoulders stiffen reflexively before he closes his eyes and goes slack, shoulders relaxing. This is a bad habit of Yuu's, to just kiss him to change the topic or distract Tomose from worrying. But it took a lot for Yuu to become comfortable showing physical affection, so Tomose doesn’t want to disturb him and scare him off. It feels fragile.
Yuu pulls away, just a little out of breath. "It's okay," he tells him.
Tomose catches his breath. He looks past him to the wilted flowers on the windowsill. They were so vibrant and colorful a couple of weeks ago. "Do you think it's still salvageable?"
"Maybe," Yuu says, and steps sideways in front of the window sill, blocking Tomose's view of the plant. "But I'll take care of it,” he says. “Tomose. I’ve missed you, but I’m finally back now. We can spend the rest of the evening together. I’ll even cook your favorite dish.” He leans in, cradling Tomose’s cheek with his ungloved hand, and murmurs, millimeters away, “So forget about the flowers.”
He kisses Tomose again, and Tomose closes his eyes. He knows that he’s being spoiled by Yuu’s overwhelming love for him, that it’s unfair for him to rely on him so one-sidedly, but he can’t help it. They’ve had conversations like this countless times, and Tomose has learned from experience that no matter what he says or how much he tries, he can’t change Yuu’s mind when he’s like this, so he gives in, melting into Yuu’s warmth, fingers curling into the fabric of Yuu’s shirt.
He doesn’t pick losing battles, after all.
Sometime when he’s not looking, Yuu replaces the old plant with a potted cactus. It makes sense. It’s practical. It’s low-maintenance, and they can leave it alone when they travel. But Yuu could’ve taken care of the potted flowers, if it was just up to him. If he had just asked Urara, or even maybe Kamiya, they might not have died. It kind of feels like he had to give up, because of Tomose.
But Yuu does put effort into his cactus caretaking. Over time, the cacti spread to cover more of the window sill, a variety of shapes and kinds, each in their own differently sized pots of varying shades of blue. He even replaces the old glass measuring cup with a larger watering pot.
While infrequent, it’s soothing to watch Yuu water the cacti, carefully giving care to each one. For Yuu, who often complains about not knowing what to do with his free time, putting his all into taking care of these cacti must mean a lot.
“I didn’t know cacti needed fertilizer,” Tomose says curiously, peering around Yuu’s shoulder.
“Only occasionally,” Yuu says, not turning to look at him. He carefully measures out a cap-full of the cactus fertilizer and pours it into the watering can. Gently, he lifts and swirls the can to mix it in. “And they can survive a while without it.”
Yuu walks to the cactus collection at the window sill, and Tomose follows him, lagging a few steps behind. Yuu pours the fertilizer mixture into each cactus’s pot, one by one, and the watering can runs empty just as Yuu finishes with the last cactus. It’s kind of cute that he even calculated the exact amount the cacti need.
“You’ve been taking good care of them,” Tomose says. “They look nice.”
“I know,” he says, a little amused. Tomose has been making an effort to praise the cacti every chance he gets, but, well—he’s not very creative thinking of compliments. Yuu sets the watering can back down, next to the bottle of cactus fertilizer, and turns around to face him. “Tomose,” he says, with a little hesitation. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“Of course,” Tomose says.
Yuu steps closer and places a hand gently on his shoulder. Tomose tenses up involuntarily, half-expecting to be kissed, but Yuu doesn’t lean forward, just tilts his head slightly. “Will you take care of them for me?” he asks, voice uncharacteristically quiet.
“Are you going somewhere?” Tomose asks, and racks his brain to try to remember if Yuu has any plans to leave base in the near future. As far as he knows, he shouldn’t have any missions planned out of town for a while, and the two of them don’t have any road trips or overseas vacations scheduled, either.
“Not now. After I die,” he says, as if it’s natural.
Tomose’s throat closes up. Ah. This again.
Yuu’s always talking like this, eager to insist how ready and willing he is to die for Tomose’s sake, even though it’s the last thing Tomose wants. He’ll do anything and everything for him, except for actually taking care of himself like Tomose wants him to.
“They should be easy to take care of,” Yuu says, when Tomose doesn’t respond. “Even if you leave them alone when you’re out of the office or forget to water them, they won’t die so easily.”
It’s one of the rare requests Yuu has allowed himself to make him, so of course he would take care of them, if Yuu hypothetically did die first. But saying that out loud, verbally, feels like it would set it in stone.
“I can take care of them when you’re out of the office,” he says, painfully aware that he’s just side-stepping the actual question.
Yuu stares at him, expression not changing, but Tomose knows that when he freezes up and gets silent like this, it’s usually a good sign that he’s displeased. Tomose opens his mouth, trying to comfort him, but the right words don’t come out.
“Besides,” he says instead, “are you really okay asking me? I killed the last one. Urara would probably take better care of them.”
“There’s no point if it’s not you,” Yuu mutters.
“Huh?”
“After I die,” Yuu says quietly, head tilting downwards to avoid meeting Tomose’s gaze. His finger traces a line down Tomose’s shoulder. “I want you to remember me when you water them. Occasionally.”
Tomose swallows. “Was that why you started…”
“Sorry,” Yuu says simply.
Tomose shudders. That was why? He had felt content to watch Yuu tend to the cacti, proud that he found a hobby for himself to devote his time and energy to, but that’s what it was about the whole time? Just another link to his death wish?
If that’s what he was thinking, it must have felt even worse when Tomose let the first plant die.
“You don’t need to do something like that,” Tomose says, seizing Yuu by the hands and gripping them firmly in what he hopes is a show of reassurance. “I’d think about you every day, with or without the cacti.”
Yuu’s hands feel vulnerable, warmth faint through Tomose’s gloves. “That’s a bit much,” he says softly. “I’d still want you to move on.”
Like it’s that easy.
Tomose’s grip tightens involuntarily. That’s not the problem. Their job is dangerous, it’s not completely unwise to make contingency plans, but the problem is that Yuu keeps on treating it as inevitable that he’ll die first. He hates how much thought Yuu has put into this. He hates how lightly he treats his own life, as if he’s only secondary to Tomose, as if he’s expendable.
“Stop talking like that.”
He says it like an order, but he knows from experience that Yuu won’t listen. They’ve had conversations like this so, so many times.
For a moment, Tomose thinks that Yuu’s hands are trembling before he realizes that it’s his own hands. Yuu takes note, too, looking down and adjusting his hold so that he’s the one with his hands enveloping Tomose’s, like he’s trying to comfort him.
Tomose starts, “I don’t want you to—mmph.”
Yuu cuts him off with a kiss, sealing his lips shut, and Tomose swallows the rest of his sentence. He tries in vain to mouth the words, but gives up quickly as Yuu takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, forcefully stifling him. Yuu’s fingers dig hard into the back of Tomose’s jacket.
Starting to get a little lightheaded, Tomose tries to breathe in, and gasps for air once Yuu releases him. “Yuu. I,” he starts to say, and falls silent.
Yuu reaches out to touch his face, running his thumb across the corner of Tomose’s mouth to wipe the spit off. His expression softens. “I’m sorry,” he says gently. “Don’t make that face.”
He leans in for another kiss, and Tomose lets him. He knows that he won’t be able to change Yuu’s mind on this. He's already accepted it. Yuu’s fingers card through Tomose’s hair, and Tomose wraps his arms loosely around Yuu’s waist, tilting his head down for a better angle.
The cacti sit innocently on the window sill. He hopes he doesn’t have to water them for a long time.