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Now Playing: Intertwine
1:43 ——◦———— 6:10
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Streaks of morning light make their way through the bedroom blinds in the Semis’ household, gently waking the younger copper-haired boy from his slumber. Being awakened by the break of dawn would’ve annoyed him—and it did annoy him from lifetimes ago—but not in this one.
Not in this one where he feels the steady breathing of the love of his life sleeping soundly beside him; not in this one where he’s all cooped up in his dearest’s warm embrace; absolutely not in this one where the first thing he sees when he wakes up is his husband’s lovely face.
He almost wanted to flick his forehead.
He struggled to pry himself out of their entangled limbs, desperately trying not to wake the other from his sleep. There will be more days for him to freely watch his beloved peacefully sleep; for now, he was on a mission.
###
The other side of the bed is still warm when Eita wakes up.
It’s strange. He usually gets up first in the morning. He would’ve enjoyed a few more minutes of rest, but he just knew he couldn’t. Not with this half-empty bed. He just tidied the bed and made his way downstairs.
Before he even reached the last flight of stairs, the scent of breakfast already hit him quickly. It wasn’t like being hit by a brick sent flying to his face. No, it felt like familiar fingers playfully flicking his forehead. This felt like home.
Half of their breakfast was already waiting for him at the dining table—beautifully stacked pancakes. It was his childhood favorite, but these meant more to him than nostalgic memories in the long run.
[He was nineteen and out of university. He had nothing on him but a second-hand camera and a laptop from his seventeenth birthday. Still, trying to figure out his place in a new town was definitely a struggle.
Day by day, he got by with occasional calls from local referrals. He took it all, from advertisement shoots for small businesses to covering mini-events; he had nothing to lose but a hell lot to gain and work for.
Especially when he met a certain bitter boy one fateful night when one thing led to another, the last thing he had the guts to do was to drop a box of take-out pancakes with his number before leaving for his project the morning after.]
Kenjirou was halfway done transferring the last batch of bacon to the plate when he felt arms wrap around his waist from the back and a sleepyhead nuzzled on the crook of his neck. Maybe getting up first in the morning isn’t so bad when this scene greets him every single time.
“Good morning to you, too,” he acknowledges the presence in the room.
“I missed you,” the older responds, still half-asleep, not moving from his position.
“Eita, it’s been less than an hour since I got up from bed; I still need to get this plate to the table… and your breath stinks. Haven’t you washed up yet?”
“Yes, yes, and no.” Out of sheer adoration (and mildly, out of spite), Eita sneaks a kiss on his husband’s cheek. “You love me, anyway,” he confidently declares before retreating to the washroom to rinse the sleep off.
###
After successfully setting everything on the dining table, Kenjirou was almost done with his mission. He takes two cups, filling one with his favorite tea and the other with a particular brew of coffee. While he prefers the comforts of nature in his drink over the bitter grounds of coffee, once a certain ash-blond taught himself how to make his tea how he needed it, he knew he had to learn this brew by heart.
[During their earlier years, every morning after a sleepover ended with a discourse over the superior morning drink. Is it tea, or is it coffee?
While Eita is fond of particular tea flavors, he still prefers having coffee over any other drink. His messed-up night patterns had made him caffeine-dependent for quite some time already. Still, he attentively watched how Kenjirou makes tea—what kind, how long to brew, how much sugar or milk.
It wasn’t until Kenjirou fell sick and Eita insisted on getting him breakfast in bed that he realized that his partner had perfected his drink. It was just like how he prepared it every morning; it was as if he wasn’t stuck in a bed and had the energy to make it himself.
It was at that moment when he knew he had to learn how to make Eita’s coffee, whatever it costs.]
It didn’t take him too long, though. Memorizing Eita—the countless ways to make his eyes glow with joy, his contagious laughter, his scent, and his favorite (and questionable) clothing choices for every occasion, even his morning coffee—was as easy as knowing an old friend. He never needed to try; all he needed to do was be there, and everything fell into its rightful place.
He smiles at the thought of being soulmates. Whether or not they were real, it didn’t matter because before he set their cups on the table, the first shot had already been fired.
“Took you this long to finally see the superiority of morning coffee.”
“And it took you a few months to see the supremacy of my morning tea.”
“Dear, haven’t you realized that you have fallen into my trap? Pretending to be a tea-believer so you would fall straight into my arms.”
“Joke’s on the one who has fallen first without the need for any traps or flattery.”
And just like that, he wins this morning’s battle. It has always been like this—light-hearted arguments over the most trivial matters being the most ironic way to get at each other. Perhaps it would seem uncanny for most, but not them, because this felt like home.
###
After a hearty breakfast and a handful of shared chores, the couple headed back to lounge in their bedroom. Kenjirou is lying in bed, browsing through food delivery apps, asking Eita what he wants for lunch.
“You made my favorites for breakfast. Choose what you want for lunch. I’ll pay for it.”
“And you know I’ll take a whole day to choose what to eat. Be a good husband and save me that struggle, will you? And you don’t get to pay for this.”
This sends Eita laughing from his beanbag across the room. He’s been sitting there for a while, lazily strumming his guitar to an unfamiliar yet soothing melody.
“My dear, it isn’t even near lunch, and you’re already that cranky? Geez, I must never let you wake up that early ever again.”
“Well, excuse me, sir. I am not being cranky. I am being practical. Should I remind you that today is Valentine’s Day? These services will be out of order as soon as orders start to blow up by lunch.”
“Then let’s just make do with whatever we have here.”
“How is that going to be special?”
“How is it not?”
“Because it’s… normal.”
“And why would you think that normal isn’t special to me?”
Appalled by it, Kenjirou sits up and tries to send an answer, but no words come out of his mouth, not because of the lack of thought but because of the abundance thereof.
Why wouldn’t normal be special? Normal is the exact opposite of special—it is as simple as that. Why would anyone appreciate such a mundane thing? How can anyone put so much value onto something that comes by every day?
Something like waking up next to the person one loves so dearly, or being greeted by a well-prepared breakfast downstairs, or having someone make your morning tea the way you like it every single day without fail— why wouldn’t normal be special?
The strumming of guitar strings tears him away from his trail of thought.
“Now, my love, why would you think that something normal with you wouldn’t be special to me?” His husband asks with a knowing smile on his face.
The silence is enough response for Eita. He chuckles at his husband, left dumbfounded by the sudden realization. It is a one-of-a-kind sight for him—having his cherished Mr. Know-It-All at a loss for words.
While he had something planned for the rest of the day, especially how to end it, he couldn’t miss this opportunity he might have accidentally made for himself. He could think of something else for later—now, it's all or nothing.
Not letting go of his guitar, he left the comforts of his bean bag in favor of his side of the bed. His husband's eyes were bewildered, following his movements. “Good, keep your eyes on me,” he thinks to himself.
“You know,” he starts, playing the strings to the tune from earlier. “There’s something I forgot for our wedding night. I've been… meaning, planning to sing it for you since then, but I just couldn't find the perfect opportunity to do it—not until now. Now, I've realized we don't need the perfect timing for anything because you're here with me; that's all that matters.”
“No grandiose, no pretense—just us. Now, if you could be so kind, please be a good husband and spare me from hearing about how cheesy this is and just listen…”
He takes a deep breath in and sings.
“If I could tell you all the things you are to me”
I'd try to fit them all inside this song.”
His voice shakes. He hasn't sung for something like this for a long time, yet here he is—with a song he first heard on the radio, all cards on the table, pouring everything he has held back for this particular moment.
“The words I sing won't give our love no justice,
'Cause what we have's a blessing from above.”
The lyrics were all so true. All these years, Eita’s been making a handful of playlists for his man—a dozen kept on his phone. It has always been a cycle of curation every now and then as they grow in and out of certain phases. While some tunes stayed with them throughout the years, the melodies and choruses can never equate to the feelings in his heart.
“Though the winds may change,
And the lights may fade,
Our love will see us through.”
They did change—a thousand times over. They first met as chaotic teenagers, living merely for the hope of it all—for the thrill of what could be. With late-night walks, talks, and unplanned meetings where they shouldn’t be, they fell in love, only to fall apart once more; both unaware of the surprises the world has in store for them.
“Take this heart to be yours, only yours
And every part of you will be mine, only mine.”
It was a no-brainer; everyone who’s been around them knows that everything has changed since they met, more so, when they left. Like twin flames whose souls are forever etched in each other’s existence, they belong together—whether they choose to be or not, the universe will always make a way.
And so, it did… but it did move in ways no one could ever predict.
“Even the ghosts
And all the fears.”
The second time, they met again a few months after during the turbulent times of life. It was the crucial “make it or break it” years for their lives when they tried to find a home in each other’s company. Alas, the tumultuous waves that brought them back together were the same waters taken by the drought, until all that was left was the rubble of their home, washed up at shore.
“Even the most uncertain years, I'll hold you close.
It starts tonight.”
Despite everything, they found their way back to each other once more—now as kindred spirits with profound minds, wandering through the edges of the world. They never sought each other’s presence, nor did they yearn to bask in such existence, but the universe seemed to conspire, pulling all the invisible strings to bring them back to where they started.
“The night when our lives intertwine.”
Maybe, the third time really is a charm, because when the world brought them back together, the threads of the cosmos were finally woven into place, binding them for the rest of this lifetime. The idea of being soulmates remains unaddressed—the concept too complex to be comprehended by human minds. However, to question its possibility at this state? What other proof does one need?
The universe didn’t have to tell them—their very beings already knew.
###
Eita, the married man that he is, finishes the song, still flustered like a teenage boy professing his love for the first time. He searches and sees the familiar pair of brown orbs, already waiting to meet his. A part of him feels giddy seeing the same expression on his husband’s face.
“You really wasted the chance to play this at our wedding?” The younger asks.
“Unfortunately, yes. I was too busy thinking about the love of my life to think straight and plan ahead. I deeply apologize, my dear,” he replies with fond sarcasm.
“It’s beautiful.”
“It suits you.”
“It suits us.”
“Should we get married again and have the playlist right this time?”
“Do you plan on saying yes to me again?”
“Not if I ask you first.”
And the endless, lifetime’s worth of warm bickering begins once more.
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Game on. Who knows? I might have a ring ready by tomorrow.”
“Maybe I have one on me right now.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
Back once more to where they began; no longer with jagged edges, but with refined ones that match each other perfectly—tuned to the same frequency, matching each other’s pace as they meet again and again in every lifetime.
“Whatever you say,” Kenjirou backs down, remembering their earlier conversation.
“So what do you want to have for lunch?” He asks again.
“I told you, you choose for us.”
“The usual takeout pizza?”
“Pizza? I thought you wanted something special?”
“Isn’t every pizza special when shared with you?”
Until it feels like home.