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Mitsuba snored softly as he rolled around in bed, covers pulled up over his head in the dimly-lit room.
The sun's incandescent light poured in through the gaps of the curtain, coloring the already-pink room with even more hues and shades of the dainty color.
Quiet, gentle winter mornings -just how Mitsuba liked them. Any outside noise or the honking of traffic would ruin the perfectly-crafted illusion of an idle and static day; For some reason, the pink-haired preferred things that way.
The blankets atop and all around closed in on him, entrapping him into a makeshift cocoon. For some, it'd definitely feel suffocating. For Mitsuba, it felt familiar.
He wriggled around a bit more inside his blanket burrito, eyes opening up the slightest bit before closing shut at the sun's glaring light.
Kou should be here soon.
He wanted to at least get out of bed before his husband arrived -after all, just what kind of man would he be if he couldn't even be a proper stay at home spouse? Except, take away the spouse aspect of it all and replace it with leech, the term the Yugi brothers used to describe his status in Minamoto Kou's home.
Not that Mitsuba could blame them, if he was being honest.
Not when he practically did nothing all day.
Every morning, he'd either sleep to his heart's content or wait in bed, lousing and scrolling through his phone, while aching for Kou to come back from work.
Hell, he didn't even know where Kou worked!
What mattered, though, was that they lived more than comfortably, at least according to the man himself. Mitsuba wasn't in any position to complain, seeing as he relished in all their expenses and made good use of each and every vacation that Kou planned for the two. No, he daren't complain the slightest bit, as long as he could stuff his face full of whatever extravagant pastry that Kou baked with expensive ingredients Mitsuba couldn't even pronounce the names of.
He sometimes did want to, though. Complain, that is! Not try to say the names of the multi-voweled conjunctions he couldn't wrap his brain around.
Kou would be gone whole nights, from the previous day's evening to early mornings and sometimes early noons. Other times, he wouldn't come home until the following day! Whatever could Mitsuba do in the countless hours spent without his husband, simply rotting away laying in bed?
Alas, it wasn't a fate that troubled the blond much, it seemed, as he still hadn't arrived home.
The pit in Mitsuba's stomach was only getting bigger. His stomach also growled, so there's that.
Any more time spent without Kou, and the pink-haired would be forced to go and get his breakfast himself! (Kou always made sure to cook the next day's breakfast before his job departures, sometimes a whole day's worth of meals too.)
His mouth watered at that thought, salivating at the imaginary smell of strawberry pancakes and syrupy flan.
Oftentimes, his friends would call him spoiled rotten. He could only scoff at that, because they didn't even know half of it.
It was no secret that Kou came from old money, wealth stored and passed down from generation to generation and, ultimately, leading to a very slim portion ending up in his hands. Still, Kou's slim was the equivalent of anybody else's grand and large, and so every single little thing that Mitsuba laid his eyes upon, Kou bought.
The pink vest he eyed during their last visit out of town? Added to his hefty and heavy shopping bag with no comment.
The ad featuring the prettiest beaches in all of Japan that Mitsuba spent more than a few seconds watching? Became their vacation spot for their second wedding anniversary.
Point was, Mitsuba was certain that a certain radish-ankled woman would go slack-jawed with envy and shock at a peek into Mitsuba's life -a fact that the pink man couldn't help but snort and chortle at.
Still, the imaginary scenario did nothing to abate the utter and devastating loneliness he felt. In that regard, he's sure Nene beat him -her husband bent over backwards for her every whim despite constantly professing of being nothing like Kou.
The two men differed in that regard.
While the blond was quite obvious with his affections, smothering Mitsuba with excessive, and often unnecessary, instances of PDA, Yugi would bicker with and tease his own wife, poking fun at her ankles and her inability to tend to any plant that wasn't a vegetable. All of this would be done, mind you, while staring at the aforementioned girl with the plainest, most clear love struck expression that anyone could possibly ever muster.
Just thinking about the couple filled him with a bitterness he couldn't quite place.
When would Kou get home?
He was getting antsy, a slight tremor spreading through his form and his breathing turning shallow.
His place under the covers felt, all too suddenly, oppressive and claustrophobic, and so he shuffled himself feebly to the surface.
Maybe it'd do him good to go out.
Would Natsuhiko and Sakura be up for a coffee hangout?
They'd probably be bringing Tsukasa along, though...
His husband did not like Tsukasa, for some reason or another -Mitsuba never thought to inquire why. Sure, the brunet man tended to be a bit.. rough, at times, but he always bore Mitsuba's best intentions at heart! Even when he dared the pink-haired to eat the animal carcass they'd found outside the school during their third year of middle school, Tsukasa had only wanted Mitsuba to be strong and healthy, enough to-
Enough to what?
His head hurt, horribly so.
He twisted and turned in bed, feeling a throbbing pain inside his stomach and another pulsing at the sides of his head.
He thought back to Nene and her husband.
Maybe they'd want to come over and play video games with him?
He quickly discard that idea -the daikon-legged girl already sucked at any type of game, so teaming her up with her husband, who didn't even know how to use a phone, would be plainly overkill.
Although the thought made him laugh, he couldn't help but wonder exactly how Nene put up with being married to someone so out of the technological loop! Every time the four of them went out, Yugi would unabashedly stare at every ad being featured on huge billboard screens, despite having looked at them already. He would wear such an amazed and dumbfounded look, Mitsuba wouldn't be able to stop himself from comparing the man to a time traveler from the 1960's. Yashiro would simply brush him off and call her husband an old soul.
Mitsuba never cared enough to notice how a panicked expression would cross her face at his unprecedented comment.
A sharp pain erupted in his abdomen, causing the pink-haired to snap from his reverie and let out a whine.
Kou would know what to do.
A loud, thudding noise came from the window, a tapping as if someone were trying to catch his attention. Mitsuba turned towards the sound, only catching a glimpse of black feathers in his peripheral view before being met with the sight of falling snow and the dusty blues of the mid-morning sky.
Slowly, he rose from the soft and comfortable bedding, swinging his legs down onto the floor and attempting to blink away the remnants of sleep from his tired eyelids.
His body felt heavy as he padded over to the door of his and Kou's shared bedroom, treading along the hallway before descending downstairs.
He missed his husband, terribly so, enough to feel an emptiness in his heart that spread to his stomach. Or maybe it was the opposite -the vacant space in his belly was enough to extend its reach to his chest.
Despite breakfast being right there on the kitchen table, Mitsuba put off eating for as long as he possibly could, lest Kou was present and there to remind him.
Any other man would get mad at Mitsuba for being so difficult, the pink-haired was more than aware.
But Kou wasn't like any other man, or person, for that matter.
No, Kou didn't get mad at Mitsuba for not wishing to take his family name, albeit the latter knew how much it pained the blond. Not even when, some days, Mitsuba would be particularly averse to any type of affection, recoiling at the slightest touch and flinching at the sound of his husband's voice.
Point was, Mitsuba was happy he had such a loving husband, one who would do everything in his power to ensure Mitsuba's happiness.
Even when his brain felt foggy at times and unfocused at best, unable to recall any of the exact and specific details regarding the first thirteen years of his life, Kou would remain by his side, stroking his hand tenderly without speaking a word.
Kou still wasn't home.
Mitsuba ambles over to the kitchen table, eyes hungrily roaming about for his plate of breakfast that the blond must've left for him.
He finds it -two pieces of French toast, alongside a tall glass of milk.
The man slumps into the nearest chair and begins to eat, chugging down lukewarm milk and soggy bread.
When he next comes to, he notices Kou looking at him with a puzzled expression, standing mere inches away from Mitsuba.
He also seems to be holding some plastic bags behind him, albeit Mitsuba cannot see the exact contents inside due to their dark coloring.
"You're awake," is all Kou says, and Mitsuba bites down on the urge to spit out some snide and snarky comment. Why did you take so long? Why didn't you tell me you'd be gone for so much time? Why why-
Kou seems to sense the direction his manic thoughts have taken, and, hesitantly, sets his bags down, using his now-free right hand to cup the pink-haired's face. It's completely lost on Mitsuba that the actions were akin to ones being taken when approaching an injured animal. No, he's much too focused on basking in the warmth provided by his husband's gentle hold.
"I missed you,"
It comes out as a mutter, words voiced out against the warm press of Kou's palm to his mouth, and Mitsuba can see it tickles by the way the blond attempts to stifle a smile, a full-body shiver spreading through him.
A second or two pass -Mitsuba has never been good with time, it slips away from him like water through his hands, no matter how much, how hard he tries to cling to it.
"I'm sorry," His husband breathes against his face, breath smelling of cinnamon and vanilla, soft and warm and if it were anyone else, Mitsuba would definitely be disgusted.
All too suddenly, the blond retreats his hand, and Mitsuba feels himself following the movement, head dropping down with the motion.
The drowsiness jumps out of his being at his near-fall, and he instinctually wrinkles his nose at the stench attacking his nose -a foul odor he certainly hadn't noticed before. Perhaps he'd been too caught up on the arrival of Kou.
He directs his pointed look towards the bags on the floor, pitch black and hurriedly tied in a knot.
"Geez, what do you have in those bags? A rotting corpse?"
With one hand waving Kou away, Mitsuba uses the other to cover his nose, before dramatically and petulantly turning his head away.
He stills while he waits for Kou's response, whether it be in the form of playful and affectionate aggression or a snarky comment to combat Mitsuba's own, but nothing comes.
Mitsuba allows himself a brief glance back to see a solemn and resigned expression on his husband's face.
Maybe work hadn't gone so well.
Mitsuba ignores the way his stomach twists into knots and the like, the way a shiver runs through his body. He couldn't bear to imagine that perhaps the blond was angry at him, that he'd finally had enough with the pink-haired's constant whines and complaints and would surely pack his bags the second Mitsuba was out of sight-
He chewed on his bottom lip as he followed Kou's figure across the kitchen -turning on the stove, getting out the cutting board, reaching for his spices and seasonings.
Mitsuba gets lost in the subtle and tender furrow of his husband's blond brows, ocean-blue eyes downcast and not once daring to meet Mitsuba's own.
Some hours go by; the sky darkens outside their windows, shifting into a soft gradient of warm azure hues to dark and royal purples.
Kou returns to the table with a plate -for Mitsuba, the pink-haired realizes. He sets it before him, and the younger man can see the steam rising from the food.
His heart stops hammering in his chest as his worries fade away, preferring to focus on the appetizing meal in front of him.
It's steak, coupled with salad and a glass of wine.
His stomach grumbles; an all consuming hunger contaminates his every atom until it's all he can think about. His hands tremor and shake as he picks up his fork and knife, vision going blurry until the palette of his vision meshes together like watercolor.
The meat is red, juicy and vibrant as he cuts into it -he can almost taste it, the mere smell making him salivate.
Mitsuba looks at his husband, sitting at the table and watching the other slice the steak with an undecipherable expression.
Tentatively, he offers the piece of meat -collected clumsily on his fork- to the blond.
Kou winces as the bite is pushed past his lips, chewing it with an obvious discomfort.
Mitsuba doesn't notice.
"Tastes good, doesn't it?"
His spouse doesn't respond.
Mitsuba pouts, letting his bottom lip jut out just the slightest bit.
He supposes it really must be good, for it to have left the blond so speechless.
Before thinking of a way to poke fun at the older male, Mitsuba's attention was suddenly captured by the tiniest piece of meat left behind on the blond's lips.
Wearing a smile, he leans over, bringing up his hand to wipe it off with his thumb -but thinks better of it.
Instead, he presses his mouth against Kou's, catching the other off guard as a small sound escapes him.
It's a quick, chaste kiss -a silent thank you for everything. From the home-cooked meals to the unconditional devotion so often seen in the other man's eyes, Mitsuba couldn't find the words to express his gratitude for all that he had.
Mitsuba pulls away, and as he looks at his husband's dumbstruck look, he can only think of one thing.
He truly has it all.