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✿ ◦• ♡ ◦• 𓆩❀𓆪 ◦• ♡ ◦• ✿
Rich buttery light dribbles into Sakura’s apartment, like thick streams of honey, as he eases the door open. The entirety of Class 1-1—even Suo and Nirei—have, apparently, showered his home with surprises. They didn’t elaborate what kind, or how many there were; instead, they flooded Class 1-1’s group chat with a tsunami of winks (which drove him insane!), smirks, stickers with cute and fuzzy characters, and endless waves of messages that he didn’t bother to read (mostly because they were flying across the screen).
No muffled laughter. No hushed voices. And no one has sprung from the darkness yet to jump him.
He slips inside. The door clicks shut behind him. After three counts, he flicks on the lights.
And what he finds…
…is not at all what he expected.
First, a shikibuton, where he always sleeps; on top, there’s a pillow, a tuxedo cat plush, and a neatly folded kakebuton.
Right beside it, a low table with four blossom-shaped cushions; a star-shaped carpet beneath that. But on the table—as Sakura draws closer, suddenly feeling like his heart is too big for his chest—is Suo’s electric tea kettle, now accompanied by a box of herbal tea, and a plate of sakura mochi (and, for some reason, a ramune, something he only sees Togame with).
He drops to his knees, lips wobbling, tears blurring his vision, and carefully lifts the box of herbal tea. That’s when he finds a heart-shaped sticky note:
Good job, Sakura-kun! You found your first surprise ^ ^ The circles under your eyes are darker than your hair… Drink this tea, and sleep better. Oh, but don’t eat all the sakura mochi before bed… or else you’ll be up all night with a sugar rush!
“Yeah, right,” Sakura grumbles, imagining Suo writing this with his usual provoking grin. Suo is just as full of crap as he is of mystery, and as Sakura wipes his eyes, he covers the note and springs to his feet. That’s the first surprise. He can only imagine what else his classmates are hiding in his apartment.
He checks the kitchen next.
And he finds the pantry stocked with his favorite food, the fridge full of his favorite beverages; eggs, cheese… things Sakura’s not even sure what he’s supposed to do with. He sniffles, blinks away tears, and turns to leave the kitchen—but that’s when he finds a black bowl on the portable stove the class gave him long ago. He approaches it slowly, cautiously, and when he’s sure he’s not walking into a trap, he cups the bowl with his hands—hands that suddenly look too worn, too bruised from years of fighting. Warmth seeps into his skin, trickles into his blood, and makes everything inside of him melt.
He swallows thickly as more warmth—wet and salty—spills down his cheeks. Carefully, he peels back the foil covering the bowl.
Ramen.
A bowl of ramen, just for him, with an assortment of cooked meat and hard-boiled eggs soaking in a spiced broth. It’s not the half-cooked bowl he ate after school, with hard, crunchy noodles and clumps of seasoning because he never added enough water. He was always too tired. Too hungry to care.
He takes the bowl. A pair of chopsticks. He turns around, his back to the counter, and sinks to the floor.
And he can’t stop crying as he savors every last bite of the dinner his classmates bought for him, kept warm and saved for him. He eats it all, washes the bowl and the chopsticks; downs a bottle of water from the pack he knows came from his classmates as well, and he even starts brewing a cup of tea. He’s not hungry, but he eats at least half of the sakura mochi, and it’s so good—food always tastes good in Makochi, but now, it’s even better. The ramen was warmer, spicier. The mochi is sweeter. Even the tea tastes special, and tea has always been ‘flower dirt water’ to him.
He cleans the dishes, and finds more surprises left by his classmates: floral-patterned towels, mismatched cups, bowls, and cutlery; a flower-shaped sponge, hand soap, dish soap… an indoor plant, albeit he finds a handful of those thoughtfully placed throughout his apartment, as well as a note promising more in the future.
In the bathroom, he has quite a lot to choose from—face wash, moisturizers, shampoos, conditioner… things from Kotoha, Tsubaki, and Mitsuki. He also finds a fluffy headband with cat ears (which he makes a point to scowl at).
He brushes his teeth. Why? He can’t stop crying. Why? He washes his face. Moisturizes. He wears the headband, just because it’s a gift, and it really is soft— why, why did they do this for him? —so soft, he can’t help himself. By time he’s finished getting ready for bed, the sky is full of stars, like Nirei’s hand-me-down curtains, and his eyes are red and puffy and irritated because the tears just won’t stop pouring.
Why did they fill his run-down apartment with their furniture? Why do they care so much about what he uses on his hair, on his skin? Why did they make sure his kitchen was stocked with all of his favorite things?
He doesn’t understand it—why his classmates have always been so willing to go to such lengths for someone like him—and it scares him, because coming home to a clean apartment, to warm food and the snacks he likes… coming home, knowing that love has followed him so closely, so unconditionally… isn’t something he’s used to having. He’s always had to fend for himself and prove to others that he belonged here, even if he never fully believed that himself.
But Makochi, Furin, have accepted him so selflessly, so whole-heartedly, and it’s terrifying, because good things don’t stick around, not when it comes to him. One day, his classmates will be sick of him… won’t they? And then all of this—it’ll just be a memory. Another thing that haunts his sleep.
A knock at the door snaps him out of his thoughts.
“Sakura-kun! Do you have any mochi left?” Suo.
“It’s me, Sakura-san!” Nirei. “Suo-san is here, too!”
A lump swells in Sakura’s throat. He tries to blink away his tears, swallow his feelings, but it all just overflows.
“Nirei-kun couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see you,” Suo teases.
“Suo-san!”
“Sakura-kun? Are you alive?” Don’t tell me you’re already asleep.”
The corners of his lips twitch upward as something light and feathery flutters in his chest.
“Maybe your tea worked, Suo-san!” Nirei exclaims. “We should let Sakura-san sleep, then…”
Sakura huffs, because Nirei actually sounds disappointed at the thought of leaving so soon.
Suo hums thoughtfully. “Maybe. I guess we walked here for nothing…”
Sakura flings the door open. “What’re ya doin’ talkin’ so loud outside my door, huh?”
His classmates’, his friends’, faces light up.
Then, with knowing smiles, they say,
“Welcome home.”
✿ ◦• ♡ ◦• 𓆩❀𓆪 ◦• ♡ ◦• ✿