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“Good work today!”
As soon as Yuki and Momo had finished saying their goodbyes to the staff at NEXT Re:vale, they bolted out of the greenroom. It was nearing midnight and they’d both eaten nothing in the last few hours— Yuki in particular felt that he might have had to throw a chair at somebody soon. When he looked at Momo, he looked like he was about to help him hide the body.
He forcefully yanked the doors of Momo’s car open and climbed into the passenger seat. Yuki looked at Momo and nodded. “Step on it.”
“Got it.” Momo stepped on the pedal and swerved carefully through the garage of the building, swiftly making it out of the building.
Momo groaned, tapping the wheel repeatedly. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a hippo.”
“Me too,” Yuki agreed.
“What’s open?” Momo asked. “Everything seems like it’s closed right now.”
Everything around them was closed, from the convenience store near the building to the grocery shop a block away. Finding something at this hour would be difficult.
Yuki sighed. “Wait, I’m going to check what’s still open.” He opened his phone and looked up the nearest open places. Moments later he said, “It says here that there’s a grocery store a kilometer from here. It closes in half an hour though.”
Momo’s eyes were laser-focused into the road, a determined look on his face. “We’ll make it.”
Had Okarin been there with them, Yuki imagined that Okarin would have scolded them with a deep frown on their face. They weren’t speeding but Yuki could visibly tell from Momo’s effort that he tried his best just to drive under the speed limit by the way he intensely glared at the road.
“Turn left,” Yuki said. “Then, at the intersection ahead, turn right. There, there, it’s over there!”
As soon as they made it inside the supermarket, the two formed a working unit. Yuki quickly listed ingredients as Momo drove the cart. Again, should carts have speeding laws, he would have had his license revoked. With five minutes to spare, Yuki grabbed a pack of sweet corn and threw it in the cart.
They were met by a very tired cashier, who looked Yuki soullessly in the eye. “That will be ¥6700,” he said.
The ride to his apartment was more bearable because he managed to snag a pack of snacks, but it wasn’t enough.
“Granola bar?” He offered Momo, who took it without a glance and stuffed it in his mouth.
Once Momo parked his car in their garage, they quickly unloaded their groceries— save Yuki’s moment of panic when he saw the notice on the elevator saying that there would be maintenance on the last weekend of the month— he was not going to carry groceries up three flights of stairs. He would rather starve.
On the way to Yuki’s condo, they both agreed to make a simpler meal— some vegetable gyoza, miso soup and edamame corn salad. Despite Momo’s protests in the car about his inability to cook—they both had their aprons on, ready to take the kitchen on.
“You’ll manage,” Yuki had responded.
They both work in silence as Yuki sliced a cabbage, diced a carrot and an onion and placed it in a bowl, adding a teaspoon of cornstarch, sake and grated ginger with a quarter tablespoon of salt. He shortly added soy and oyster sauce, with a shake of black pepper and began to mix.
“Hey darling~” Momo suddenly said, a nostalgic tint in his voice. “Do you remember the first time you cooked for us? Back in our old apartment?”
Yuki smiled. “Of course I do, we were living off of convenience store bentos back then. I remember being so fed up with eating them that I went to the grocery store. It didn’t work out well when I tried to cook though.” He chuckled. “But it was the first thing that we ever cooked at that place. We were up all night.”
***
4 YEARS AGO
Tonight, Yuki was determined to cook something— anything— he was tired of eating bentos from the convenience store every single day.
“Yuki-san,” Momo looked over his shoulder, fresh from a shower. “What are you doing?”
“Cooking,” Yuki answered. “Don’t worry Momo-kun, you won’t be eating any of those bentos anytime soon.” He ripped open a package of peas and dumped them into a bowl. “No meat though, sorry about that.”
Momo opened the cupboard and took out two plates. “I’ll eat anything that you make, Yuki-san,” he grinned. “So don’t worry! I’m sure it’ll be yummy”
Yuki smiled. “Thanks.”
Momo had been hard at work all day, so the least that Yuki could do was give him a fulfilling meal to thank him for all his efforts.
Once Momo left the room, Yuki hesitantly took out a knife from the drawer. His hands trembled. He had to do it for Momo, it was the least that he could do— hands shaking, he slowly placed the knife above a tomato. Just a little more.
The knife clattered to the ground. Yuki stumbled back towards the counter.
Momo hurriedly came back to the kitchen, worriedly asking if he was okay. Yuki nodded and apologized.
It didn’t seem to bother Momo at all, he only smiled and reassured him, telling him that he could whip something up.
Yuki waited on the side, feeling absolutely useless— he had writer's block and couldn't write any songs, and now he couldn’t help around their home. Feeling worthless, he hopelessly grabbed the cutlery and set it down on the table near their kitchen.
He tried to help Momo as much as he could, but he had no idea what Momo was doing, so he couldn’t really help. He hadn’t the slightest idea of what they were making, he could only hope that it was edible.
“Dinner is ready!” Momo announced half-an-hour later, walking into the room with a steaming hot tray of miso and tofu. He set the tray down on the table and took the remote, flicking through channels until he settled on a channel of cat videos.
As Yuki opened his chopsticks and took a bite of Momo’s marinated tofu, he tried to smile. ‘Too much salt,’ he thought, ‘You put too much salt, Momo’. Even so, he enjoyed it. It wasn’t some half-baked food from the convenience store, it was something that they made together.
Yuki could manage the bitterness. The food might have not been the best of quality, but it certainly made him feel full.
They spent the rest of the night talking about their past, funny stories they wanted to tell— pretty much everything. In a way, even after a couple of months of knowing each other, they still had to learn a lot about each other.
It must have been late when they began to clean up, since it seemed that their apartment was the only one with the lights still on.
Yuki felt a warm feeling swell up his chest— he hoped that maybe in the future they would have more meals like these together.
And so, that night he was determined to become a better cook.
***
“It sure was salty.” Yuki took the wrap and began to put it into the mix, his hands felt all sticky. “It was the saltiest thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.”
Momo turned the heat of the stove on, slowly turning the handle. He sent a mischievous grin at Yuki. “You looked like you were enjoying it though.”
“Not as much as that time that we tried baking a birthday cake for Okarin, the look on his face is something I’ll never forget.”
Momo grinned as he added oil to the pot. “Tell me all about it. The landlord almost kicked us out.”
***
3 YEARS AGO
In celebration of their hard-working manager’s birthday, Momo and Yuki decided to throw a party for Okarin — and that included baking the cake.
It had all gone smoothly, and, to their surprise, they managed to bake a two-layer cake without burning anything (yet) for the first time. That was, until the demanding decision of what flavor of frosting they wanted to use came along.
“No, Yuki. Okarin probably likes vanilla more, trust me on this. I’ve heard him say it before, he likes vanilla more.” Momo quickly grabbed the chocolate frosting and held onto it as if for dear life.
“You’re just saying that because you like vanilla more than chocolate.” Yuki pulled the box of frosting from Momo.
“Vanilla chocolate exists, you know?!” Momo said, unyielding in his grip. “Are we really going to have-”
“I know. But it looks like you’re about to kick the box out of the window right now.”
“Maybe I should do that,” Momo pondered. “So why can’t we just mix it together? It’ll just taste as good.”
“No it won’t.” Yuki said. “It won’t taste as good. Vanilla by itself is good enough.”
“I disagree.”
Yuki reached for the box and successfully caught it. “Try me.”
Momo smiled. “I will.”
And so, they engaged in a tug of war for the box of frosting, neither willing to back down from the fight. It was a battle which Yuki simply wasn’t willing to lose. His hands tightened on the box. Momo returned the challenge with the same amount of vigor, pulling it back.
The doorbell rang.
Yuki stumbled back, his hands landing on the cutting board, which happened to have a bag of flour right on top of it— and, oh, the fan happened to be on.
Yuki and Momo looked at the flour, their mouths opening in sync as it flew into the air and the ceiling fan managing to catch it in its arms. It was the middle of summer then, but their apartment was a winter wonderland, with flour flying everywhere.
“Ah, the door is open,” Yuki heard Okarin say. “Momo-kun, Yuki-kun, I’m coming in!”
“Oh, shit,” they both said at the same time as they watched Okarin’s expression morph from excitement, to confusion, to horror.
Okarin rubbed his forehead. “What exactly happened here?”
“Uh… happy birthday?” They both said at the time. They looked at each other, both covered in flour. Yuki’s lip trembled as Momo looked away, attempting to suppress a giggle.
They burst out laughing.
As for how they got in trouble with their landlord? Well, that was Yuki and Momo performing a song written solely for Okarin, and while an epic guitar solo wasn’t quite needed, Yuki did it anyway.
***
“You know, I think we spent more time cleaning up than celebrating his birthday,” Momo commented. He mixed the contents of the salad together, the wooden spatula making the pot sizzle.
Once Yuki finally finished wrapping the Gyoza, he took a pot, placed it right beside Momo’s, and began to make Miso soup.
“After all these years, I’m so lucky that I can still eat Yuki’s cooking~” Momo winked. “I still want to taste that porridge again that you made.”
“I’ll make it again if you want.” Yuki offered. “I’ll make it for you anytime you need it.”
***
2 YEARS AGO
Yuki could tell when Momo wasn’t feeling well. He could tell it as well as the difference in a semitone. To be fair, though, it was obvious when Momo walked through the doors of their agency with a sunken look in his eyes. To Yuki, it seemed that he didn’t even have the energy to open the door.
Yuki took Momo’s jacket. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Mmn,” Momo nodded sluggishly. “Just a little tired.”
Yuki raised an eyebrow, placing his palm on Momo’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”
“‘M not,” Momo replied.
Yuki shook his head. “Sure, you aren’t,” he said. “C’mon, let’s get you to your home.” He wrapped his arms around Momo’s shoulders. He didn’t have Momo’s superhuman strength, but he managed to drive him to his apartment and drag him to his futon.
While Momo restfully slept, Yuki got to work in the kitchen. Quickly sending a message to Okarin about Momo’s condition. Yuki settled for rice porridge, a classic when it came to fevers. By some miracle, he had all of the ingredients necessary in Momo’s usually empty fridge.
“Momo,” Yuki nudged Momo’s shoulders. “You have to eat something. Eat this.” He offered him the bowl.
Momo groaned, but he opened his eyes. He sat up tiredly and took the bowl from Yuki’s hands, taking little sips. With a raspy voice, he gave a “Thank you.”
Yuki sat cross-legged beside Momo. “Don’t put yourself down too much. I know we might not have much sometimes but it’s nothing worth risking your health over. I care about you, so don’t push yourself too much.”
“You shouldn’t scold someone when they’re sick,” Momo sniffed, a small smile on his lips. “But I’ll try my best, not to get sick and all. By the way, this porridge tastes amazing. Tastes just like my mom’s.”
“Thanks,” Yuki said. “You can have as much as you’d like.” Yuki never really did this before— he always cooked for himself, not for anyone else, but it made his heart feel fuzzy, making something for Momo whilst he was sick.
***
“And we are done!” Momo announced. He put the salad in a glass bowl as Yuki poured the miso soup into two smaller bowls. Yuki winced as a burning drop of soup scorched his fingers.
They brought their meal to the small table near their TV. Yuki set the table while Momo filled the glass pitcher. Looking at their creation that they had managed to create within an hour, with empty stomachs, might he add, Yuki couldn’t help but feel pride for their creation— like they actually did it.
It wasn’t the first time they cooked together, but damn it never failed to make Yuki feel so satisfied. “Careful, it’s hot,” he said as Momo sat down.
Momo stretched his arms. “Let’s dig in!”
Over the five years that they have spent together, laughing, crying, dancing and singing, nothing could compare with sharing a meal together, it was always the same.
To Yuki, it still felt like home.