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“It’s my anniversary.”
“Right now? Well, you suck,” Futaba calls as she appears over the back of her booth.
“History exam,” Sumire replies, not looking up from her books. Morgana yowls in agreement, still taking a lead in prompting wayward teens to study.
Futaba groans dramatically, but turns around and goes back to her studies. Or at least, flops over the sea of books piled on the table.
Akira smiles fondly. Ann, who he’d actually been speaking to, turns to face him, the same nostalgic look on her face. Sure, he doesn’t envy the actual studying part, but being here, in Leblanc, with his friends each day… that he wouldn’t mind again.
Nowadays, it's so much harder for their schedules to match up. But Akira’s on a break from university, so of course he came back to Tokyo. His relationship with his parents is better than it was two years ago, but there’s only one place he really feels at home.
It just so happens that this coincides with Ann visiting, which makes it even better.
The accidental world vomit though…less planned. Apparently, Goro is affecting his filter.
“Sooo, anniversary,” she says quietly, as Futaba and Sumire start quizzing one another.
Akira’s mood dips to nervousness. He busies himself with the coffee machine, Futaba yelling from the opposite side of the room for a refill as he does. He can feel Ann staring at him as he makes the drinks, trying not to pull on his hair.
Someone may have warned him it’s a tell.
Once he’s distributed the drinks though, there’s nothing else to help him stall. So he leans over the counter and sighs.
“Yeah, in two weeks. I’ll still be here, and so will Goro.”
Ann’s face brightens - she’s always been one of the most supportive of their relationship, and she loves love. It’s no surprise she’s just as invested now.
“And?” she whispers conspiratorial, leaning closer
“And…” Akira trails off. It takes her less than ten seconds to draw a conclusion.
“And you don’t know what to do. That’s…not like you.”
“Awwww,” Futaba drawls from the other side of the room, so sarcastically he wants to stick his tongue out at her.
“History exam,” Sumire says again, and Futaba once more, flops onto the table.
Akira rolls his eyes, before going back to the point. It’s not like him. Akira’s always renowned for his plans, the more daring the better. But this…is actually proving quite difficult.
The problem is, Akira has done a lot of things. A lot of bizarre, head spinning things, such as shooting a god in the face and punching his therapist-turned-super villain. And that’s without counting his relationship with Goro.
After you bring someone back to life with just your willpower (and a little bit of help from said therapist/super villain), buying a bunch of roses seems somewhat inadequate.
Ann suddenly leans forward and taps him on the head. “Hey. Overthinking.”
Akira shakes his head, but can’t help but smile. Until he moved here, Akira never truly felt understood. His parents are traditional in many ways, stoic in their affection and see success in milestones, rather than small moments. Now he has friends, family and a boyfriend who notice shifts in his mood despite the careful constructed mask he made years ago.
He takes a breath. “I can’t decide on what to do. Or a gift.”
Which is possibly a more accurate sentiment. If Akira thinks about it (and honestly, he’s been trying not to) there’s too much choice. WIth the prerequisites of making it special, something Goro will enjoy, and something that means something to them…there’s a few choices.
But are they the right ones?
“I know what he’s getting you.”
Sumire’s voice floats through the cafe, the other three turning to stare at her with such dramaticism that she flushes.
“He-he took me and Yusuke to ask for our opinion!” she says, holding her hands up in surrender.
“That’s a combination,” Futaba mutters, grinning but still scribbling.
Akira can’t help but agree, which must show on his face as Sumire turns red.
“You’ll love it! I promise, we spent hours going through so many shops, and I’m not sure if Goro really wanted our input seeing as his reactions to our picks were-”
“Maths exam,” Futaba counters smugly, and Sumire halts, sighs, and immediately goes back to her notes.
Ann giggles at their antics, then turns to Akira.
“Walk?”
They go outside with little protest from the others, seeing as the both really do need to study. Ann links her arm in his as they wander slowly, picking up ice cream at the combini on the way. Yongen isn’t exactly the most picturesque for a stroll, but being outside is helping to still his jitters.
“You know Goro is going to love whatever you do,” Ann says, squeezing his arm.
“I know,” Akira sighs, because he does. If their relationship was based purely on the type of gifts they exchanged, it wouldn’t have lasted.
But that doesn’t mean that Akira wants to do just anything.
“Will you come-”
“Yes!” Ann yells, startling an old lady and causing Akira to nearly drop his ice cream.
He stares as she turns pink, clearing her throat. “Yes, I’ll happily come shopping with you.”
“Dude, why am I shopping?”
“We are helping,” Ann says, gritting her teeth as she practically drags Ryuji through the mall.
That, Akira knows, as he walks his way past various stores, is a lie. Okay, Ann will be of some help, she does have excellent taste as long as she doesn’t get distracted. But mainly, he wants them here for the general, chaotic support his two best friends give, and that he adores them for.
Going shopping during the week is far less pressure than a weekend, and Ryuji doesn’t have class today, so it’s all working out well. The only issue, is deciding what to buy.
Ann makes several suggestions, and they start, rather dramatically Ryuji thinks, at a jewellery store.
“You gonna ask him to marry you or something?” Ryuji jokes, elbowing him hard.
Proposing on an anniversary is to Akira, the most cliché idea ever, and so overdone, he’d never be able to pull it off with Goro. If he was going to propose (and he’s not) he would need to make it so out of the blue to catch him off guard, but also make sure it’s low-key and private. And yet dramatic, Goro wouldn’t expect anything less than-
“Akira!” Ann shrieks and he realises he may have paused too hard on that thought.
“I’m not proposing,” he says quickly, and both of his friends visibly relax, but not as if they're relieved. More as if the excitement drained out of them, both sending subtle glances, Ryuji even giving him a strong, knowing nod before following Ann to one of the display cases.
A weird reaction, like they weren’t expecting him to say yes, but also wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Akira’s hands itch, something wandering across his mind.
He’s been dating Goro for a year, he is absolutely in no way ready for marriage or even sure if that’s something Goro wants. Or if he wants, come to think of it. His model of marriage growing up was hardly something to aspire to.
But the fact he actually started thinking about the best way to propose to his boyfriend of one year definitely means something that he does not have the mental energy to deal with now, so it gets packed up neatly into the box in his head that has way too many things in it, but Akira has trust issues with therapists. So that box is staying tightly closed for the foreseeable future.
Anyway. On to the gift.
Ann clearly has some ideas, as she wanders through various metal types, jewellery types and pros and cons. She even starts listing the meaning of various gems in a way that Chihaya would be proud of. Akira nods along, Ryuji looking more and more alarmed with the level of information, while inside he dismisses each one.
The problem is, he’s already done this dance. Two years ago, he spent many months of his salary from the beef bowl shop on a silver bangle for Goro. He remembers the look on Goro’s face vividly. The shock, the cracking of his mask, the elation lighting up his eyes and the slight flush right across the bridge of his nose. All of it just there for an instant before Goro pushed it right back down to where all of his real feelings resided back then.
Akira can relate, he’s still not great at feeling what he needs to - but he’s seen exactly how something simple can affect Goro, and he does want to replicate that once more, now that they actually have the freedom to express how they feel.
However, as Ann starts making noises at necklaces that are definitely for her and no-one else, a magpie for shiny things as ever, the memory of the bangle leaves a bitter taste on Akira’s tongue.
Part of that display was genuine, yes. He did care for Goro, did want to buy him trinkets and get to know him. Even back then, the seeds of today were beginning to sprout. But a large part of it was the dance. The two-and-fro, the way he deliberately tried to get a rise out of Goro, to bring him in so they could keep up the cat and mouse game they played so well together.
It was a ploy, a game, a challenge. And he doesn’t want the same associations now.
“Hey, ‘Kira, these are cool.”
To his surprise, Ryuji calls him from his reverie. Ann, who is now looking at tiaras of all things, turns around in surprise too.
Akira walks over, and sees Ryuji’s found a small display case of earrings.
“Oh, yes! That’s such a good idea.”
“Why do you sound surprised?” Ryuji says, turning to Ann.
She gives him a look that says it all, and Akira turns back to the earrings before they can bring him into the inevitable arguments.
Goro pierced his ear a few months ago, and just changed the stud to a small black hoop. Akira’s pretty sure he doesn’t have many other ones, so this does make for a good gift.
There are a few plain ones, but what Ryuji pointed out were the small metal hoops with tiny charms.
There’s one with a dagger that makes Akira almost wish he had his own piercing, but matching piercings might be a bit too much, even for an anniversary. But the one that catches his eye is a silver one with a tiny black bird shape on the ring.
It’s perhaps even a little too on the nose, but Akira’s sure it has to be this one. It just feels right, imagining Goro wearing it, the little flash of silver and the darker, less obvious charm below it.
His friends agree, Ryuji actually cheering when he picks it out. It’s actually less expensive than he imagined, so all in all, he’s feeling pretty good about it.
“Now, what tiara are you going to get?” he asks Ann, who blushes and huffs, before dragging him and Ryuji out of the shops to go and eat cake.
“I think he’s going to love it,” Ann says as a giant slice of salted caramel and chocolate cake is placed in front of her.
Akira hums, happy with his choice. But as he sits, idly eating his matcha crêpe cake, a creeping sense of doubt begins. It’s not that he regrets it, he just thinks he needs more . This can be part of the celebration, a trinket along with something else.
It’s not enough. It’s a start though, and that is something.
But he’s running out of time, and was already short on ideas when this began. By the time he says goodbye to his friends and journeys home, he’s back to where he started again; stressing about the grand gesture he’s going to have to make that tops unconsciously wishing Goro back to life.
“Welcome home.”
In an instant, Akira feels soothed; the chime of Leblanc’s bell in tandem with that familiar, teasing tone has all of his nerves drained away.
“Honey I’m home,” he replies, rehearsed and yet never old, before crossing the final few steps to the cafe bar and kissing his boyfriend.
Goro smirks against his lips before the kiss deepens, Akira’s own grin fading as the sensations arise. It’s hard to describe what it's like, to sink into another person, be almost as close as you can get, mingling the very air that keeps you alive.
His heart beats loud in his ears, a metronome that generally echoes in Goro’s presence, has done since their first meeting. It wasn’t love at first sight, but intrigue, which only grew into what feels like a forgone conclusion.
However, they are in public, and although things like this bother Akira less, Goro has more…decorum, as he’d claim.
Not that there’s anyone in the cafe apart from one regular who is glued to her book. But Akira knows if Sojiro sees, he’ll get yet another lecture about sex, and the more of those he can avoid the better. He’s starting to think his guardian is deliberately trying to scandalise him with the detail some of their conversions have gone into.
So he pulls back, and slides into the seat next to Goro swiftly.
“Good day?” Goro asks, an innocent look on his face.
Which is a mask, of course.
“Ann told you.”
Goro laughs, the sound echoing across the room. A real laugh, where his eyes wrinkle and his teeth show, none of the old hiding behind his hand, curated giggles. It sends a fizz across Akira’s skin when he hears it, every single time.
“She was just just so excited,” Goro says gleefully, “Plus, I know Sumire told you. We’re even.”
Akira rolls his eyes, hearing the faint note of satisfaction in Goro’s voice. But the strange feeling from before rears up, the voices whispering that it’s not enough, he needs more time and more of a plan to make this worthwhile.
“What are you thinking?”
He’s startled to the present, where Goro is watching him, face turned serious.
It’s something they established way back when they first started a tentative, real friendship. Akira’s used to keeping everything locked in; although better at letting some emotions show, as well as actually talking about them (somewhat awkwardly), he’s far from an open book. Akira’s default is blankness. It takes a moment to remember to let emotion through, and sometimes it takes an actual effort to let it happen. And even then, when he knows what he’s feeling, how he deals with it is another step entirely. Sometimes well, sometimes not at all, and it’s just hard , having so many feelings and not enough stability. Hence, the enclosed space in his mind where barely any light touches.
Goro, on the other hand, is quick to jump to conclusions and allow his mind to fill in gaps with the worst possible outcomes. Akira’s usually very into his imagination and intelligence, but they also have a habit of coming back to bite him.
He also has a tendency to get mean. Which is, unfortunately, another thing Akira likes, but only when it’s not cutting at his exposed parts, shared meticulously and sparingly. And although he will deny it fervently, Goro will sulk like a child for days before announcing there’s been an issue.
So after misunderstandings, harboured hurt feelings and a full blown argument, they came up with a simple solution: just asking.
It sounds so stupid when Akira thinks about it, but it turns out their combined traumatic life experiences do tend to interfere with normal human interaction. So a simple statement like this clearly tells Akira that Goro believes there is something wrong, or Akira’s starting the shutting out process.
Which he was, in some way, but only to hide the fact he’s planning something to celebrate Goro.
“Just thinking about our anniversary,” Akira says. He just doesn’t mention the nervous part.
Goro’s face relaxes and he leans in, bestowing one, single kiss, before moving back out of Akira’s space. A prelude, a tease, Akira’s not sure, but his lips feel oversensitive from the lightness of the touch.
Akira has suspicions that Goro will delve deeper into their upcoming plans (or not plans, Akira HAS to spend tomorrow thinking about this), so instead decides to deflect.
“How about your day?” he asks, with a nod to Goro’s books.
He’s brought his laptop, which means he’s keeping up studying. At least, keeping up more than Akira is, who isn’t even sure what deadlines he has in the near future.
Goro though, is throwing his whole self into the future. Akira’s not sure he really does anything at university other than study and sleep (and the latter seems to be as little as he can get away with). He’s in Akira’s year, having to repeat his final year of high school due to…everything, and Akira knows that bothers him. But considering Goro’s life, the fact he’s able to get this far at all is a testament to how far he’s come.
Akira’s told him as such, both because it’s true and because it makes Goro hiss like Mona as his ears turn red. Which is something he needs to catch on camera one day.
It’s all these parts; the way Goro immediately launches into the research he’s done, the vitriol he has for scholars long dead and the admiration of others, that make Akira sure his gift isn’t enough. That to make this person who matters so much to him understand what this anniversary means, what their relationship means to him…
Yeah, Akira needs to step up. And do it fast.
Booking a restaurant is easy enough. Goro’s a foodie, but he’s an organised foodie, which means Akira has a list of places on hand Goro wants to try. Their anniversary is a Tuesday night, so not particularly popular, and Goro prefers eating later what with his erratic (or lack of) sleep schedule, so everything falls into place.
Okay, a dinner out is quite ordinary. But Akira’s going to make dessert for when they get back, and that will be his more personal touch moment, on top of the present:
Tiramisu.
Despite his previous media personality, Goro actually doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth. He likes sweet things, but not the overly sweet monstrosities he advertised on social media, and even then, his sweet tooth is in small doses. Akira still laughs thinking of the amount of crêpes and ice creams he ate for his blog, hating every bite.
The things one does for revenge.
But Akira knows his taste now. Tiramisu is the perfect mix of rich, sweet, and mellow. Of course, coffee as the key ingredient makes this the dish he has to make to celebrate their anniversary.
He’s raided Sojiro’s old cookbooks, and when that didn’t seem like enough, he spends 3 hours in the middle of the night watching YouTubers make different versions of tiramisu, and falls asleep with his phone on his face.
Then, he spends an entire day tracking down three different types of coffee he means to try out, so he can decide which will work best in the dish.
All eventualities are prepared for, the cafe is as empty as it ever is on Wednesday, and as long as he is prompt in making coffee when the regulars arrive, Sojiro has no issues with him commandeering the kitchen for his experiments.
Akira isn’t too worried, his curry is a local legend, he’s perfected udon bowls so Futaba will ask for them rather than instant noodles (the highest of compliments), and he can make an assortment of onigiri in his sleep. He went through a phase a few months ago of having actual dreams about it.
It turns out, dessert is much harder to make.
He spends hours. So many hours that his hands are trembling and he realises he hasn’t had any liquid apart from leftover coffee since yesterday.
Nothing he makes works. Either the sponge is too soggy, the cream doesn’t set, or for some reason he manages to actually burn the coffee, which he hasn’t done since the first time he made a cup for Sojiro.
By the end of the day, all he has is a lot of wasted coffee, a pile of dirty cutlery and a growing sense of anxiety.
“It’s really that bad?”
“Yes,” Akira screams-whispers into his phone later, Morgana giving him a startled look.
Haru’s laugh sounds far, too far away for his liking, but warm in its familiarity. “Baking and cooking are very different, Akira. It just takes practice.”
“I don’t think I’ve got time for the amount of practice I need,” he moans.
Haru laughs again. She’s not Goro’s biggest fan, tolerance is probably pushing it to describe their interactions, but she’s happy he’s happy. You fit , she’d said once, leaving it like that, simple and yet loaded in ways he tries at times not to think about. It’s getting easier, but it will never be easy. At least, not for a long time.
“It doesn’t need to be perfect. He’ll like it because it’s from you,” she says.
But it does, he wants to say. That such sentiments are meant for clumsy children’s artwork and not for anniversary gifts. That he’s tried, and keeps trying, and still doesn’t quite reach heights he once soared over.
“I don’t think anything I’ve got planned is good enough,” he confesses, as Mona looks over, a frown in his brow.
“Akira,” Haru says, in what seems like the same tone, “That’s not like you.”
The same words. Is this really so unlike him? This…attention to detail, this need to go above and beyond?
“You’re not one to put conviction and effort into second place,” Haru says.
He pauses. Swallows against the thoughts clamouring in his mind.
That…is true. He has always thought that doing the right thing, the best thing, with all of you, is better than doing the bare minimum. Akira doesn’t mind trying and failing, it just makes the goal that little bit closer than if he’d done nothing.
How Haru manages to see through his tangled emotions, he’s not sure, but it soothes a little of the ache.
“I guess that’s right,” he hedges.
She sighs, but fondly. “I can text you the name of a bakery that does the best Tiramisu in Tokyo. But you have time, maybe you can try again. Even if it isn’t perfect.”
Her words nestle into his chest, a comfort even as they spawn a whole series of protests. But she’s right - the world isn’t perfect, Akira isn’t perfect and his relationship with Goro has been anything but.
He can strive to make it better, but really, he can’t make up for the past. He sits up, stretching his neck as he does, wincing at a rather loud click. For as far as he’s come, there’s still some…things buried there. The need to go the distance and prove to himself, more than anyone else, that some aspects of his life do go well, so spectacularly well thank you, that he doesn’t need magical powers to make a change.
Akira would say he needs to talk to someone about this but well… talking to a ‘professional’ about his feelings caused a lot of his problems, and there’s very few people who could understand the Metaverse situation so, he’ll hold off on that idea.
“Thanks, Haru,” he says, with feeling.
He can hear the smile in her voice. “Anytime.”
The next day sees him create a new, final batch of tiramisu, which is better than the others. It’s not up to standard, and Akira hasn’t tried to serve anyone food that isn’t perfect for years, so he can’t say he’s completely satisfied, but he’s happy. Happy with his efforts, and that it’s something he can continue working on in the future.
Haru does send him the name of the bakery, which, when he scrolls through their extremely appetising photos online, does make his heart sink. So he plans perhaps to take a stroll there after dinner tomorrow, and save the home-made version for another time.
Akira has a plan, and a plan makes him more comfortable, which is why it’s a surprise when he sees a missed call from Goro on his phone later that evening. Nowadays, his phone is perpetually silenced unless Futaba calls him (whatever settings she’s remotely uploaded onto his phone he’s given up trying to combat, it only makes things worse), so he’d missed the original call by half an hour when catching up with Sojiro.
“Hey,” he says, as giddy as he always has been when Goro’s name appears in his contact list.
“Hi.”
The glimmer winks out. Akira can tell by the roughness in Goro’s voice there’s a problem. He doesn’t have to wait too long before the explanation comes.
“I’m sick.”
“Ah,” Akira says, which is a stupid response, but now it’s out he can’t take it back.
“Damn subway. It’s always a vector of disease, I knew I should have…”
Goro pauses, swallowing so purposefully it makes Akira wince. He lets the silence settle as Goro takes a few steadying breaths. “I think you’d better cancel tomorrow.”
A flash of panic sweeps from Akira’s jaw to his toes. “By then you might be-”
“Akira, I’ve thrown up twice already. I’m not leaving this apartment tomorrow.”
“Yes, of course,” Akira says, feeling as if he should just sink into the ground. Goro is ill, and he’s being an asshole.
“I know you planned-”
“It doesn’t matter,” Akira says quickly. “Really, it doesn’t at all. What matters is you look after yourself.”
Goro laughs and Akira can hear a layer of exhaustion in it. “As I’m so good at that.”
“Time to practice,” Akira says. “I could come over, but I know you’ll tell me not to.”
“There is no use in both of us being ill. And no, it’s not romantic, I can practically hear you say so.”
Akira grins; Goro does know him well. “I will come over as soon as you’re feeling up to it. And have bleached the entire place, because I know you will.”
Because I know you too , he doesn’t say.
They don’t talk for much longer. Akira’s pretty sure Goro’s in for a long, unpleasant night, and wouldn’t particularly want the details known if he can help it.
It does mean Akira has to cancel the restaurant, which isn’t actually an issue but feels like a monumental thing. People get sick, plans change all the time, but his mind can’t help thinking it’s a sign. That Goro, who is usually pretty robust, happens to get so sick he can’t leave his house in time for their anniversary.
“Maybe I’m cursed,” he says to Morgana.
“I don’t think curses are real. Well, not ones that sabotage relationships,” he says, curling his tail patiently.
“After all we’ve seen, you think cursed love is where we should draw the line?”
Morgana gives him a familiar, fed up stare. “The Metaverse is gone, it’s not messing with your love life. It’s no t,” he insists, so hard that Akira starts to laugh.
He can just see Yaldabaoth, in all its ridiculous glory, bent over his and Goro’s message history to figure out the best moment to inject universe-altering chaos. It isn’t too far from the truth, but Akira thinks he’s more in tune with the wheels of fate turning and as much as his anxious mind insists it must be the case, this is most likely just regular bad luck.
Morgana jumps on his chest, and he grimaces at the pressure and those needle-claws, so small and yet incredibly sharp. His friend doesn’t waste time though, settling down on him like the best weighted blanket, if one doesn’t need to breathe.
“It’s going to be fine. It’s you and Akechi,” Morgana says, in a tone of voice that screams ‘rolling my eyes.’
“Yeah.”
“You’ve both faced worse than a minor illness on your first anniversary. I mean, that’s pleasant in comparison to…” Morgana trails off which is fair.
He sighs, trying to roll the feeling around in his mind as he strokes Morgana’s head. “The timing just…”
“Does this sometimes,” Morgana says.
Akira stays silent because, yeah and it’s stupid and selfish to be disappointed, but it’s what comes to mind, followed by a guilt so powerful it drags him down into a swamp. As he really should be more concerned about Goro. He is, but he also understands that if it truly were anything more than a standard illness, he trusts Goro to say something.
Which means it’s probably more the humiliation of being human and snotty or vomity.
“I’ll plan something for when he feels better,” Akira says, having a new sense of conviction.
“That’s the spirit,” Morgana says through a yawn, his purrs deepening to a deliberately soothing rhythm.
Well, seeing as Akira’s plans are cancelled, he thinks he may as well try to nap.
Two days later, Akira turns up at Goro’s apartment door, much to his boyfriend’s reluctant joy. Joy, as he’d accepted Akira’s gentle ask if he was feeling well enough for visitors, but reluctant in that Goro is not back to perfect Goro standard.
Honestly, Akira kinda likes him a little messy. The authentic version always trumps the synthetic.
Goro’s fever broke yesterday, and when he answers the door he looks better than expected. Akira chooses to ignore the fact that’s most definitely to do with the light reflecting, dark circle vanishing, all around magic concealer thing he and Ann queued for last month at a sample sale.
“You’re early,” Goro grumbles, and Akira rolls his eyes, sweeping in to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek. Goro’s reaction time is dulled by the illness and he gets away with it, grinning to himself as Goro splutters indignantly over Akira not minding his own health.
“I’ve been around you for weeks, trust me, if I get sick there’s no way of preventing it.”
Goro makes a face, but doesn’t protest further. Which gives Akira time to place his shoes away in favour of his slippers (and the fact he has his own pair of slippers in Goro’s apartment still makes him dizzy), so he marches straight into the kitchen.
“You brought food.”
There’s glee there, Akira can feel it. He smiles, turning around to see Goro lounging in the doorway, smirk on his face.
“Go sit down, I’ll bring it.”
Goro narrows his eyes, but retreats, leaving Akira to put his plan into action. He knows the ins and outs of Goro’s small apartment like his own, muscle memory at this point. That too, brings a layer of comfort - even when things go awry, the familiar and homely stay the same.
Something about that thought simmers through his bones, as if gently tugging him down a specific path; not unlike the twinkling of a treasure chest only he can see. But the precise nature of it runs through his hands as fine as sand grains, so he sets it aside as he plates up the food.
“I have soup, snacks, your favourite energy drink and maybe dessert, if you eat some of these,” Akira announces as he walks into the main room.
Goro grins, a little feral, but that’s just the way it always seems when he truly lets his joy run wild. “You’d deprive a sick man of dessert?”
“Move up,” Akira says instead, as Goro laughs, making room for him on the couch.
Akira sets up the small coffee table with various bowls, handing Goro the energy drink immediately. There’s not a tonne of space, but all of it Goro has made his own - second hand, battered fantasy novels line a precariously stacked shelf, a series of extremely well cared for plants on the small balcony outside, and an original Featherman, The First Movie poster is framed proudly on the wall, a gift they all pooled to get him for his last birthday when Futaba stumbled upon it in some corner of the internet.
The TV is off, but Akira knows something trashy was probably playing previously. Goro is truly enough of a nerd that he enjoys documentaries just as much as he stated as the Detective Prince, but Akira knows when he doesn’t have a good attention span, the trashier the show, the better.
All these little things and more make up the person Akira fell for, heart and mind be damned. And although he doesn’t enjoy Goro being sick, it feels like a strange, monumental experience. As if he’s going to mark in his diary ‘the first time my boyfriend got sick and I made him soup’ in sparkly letters with hearts.
“This is good. Is there spice in it?” Goro asks, going from happy to incredulous within seconds.
Akira smiles, mostly as Goro’s inhaled nearly half of it already. “Just enough to help clear your sinuses.”
Goro glares for a second, then goes back to his meal, each spoon tentative as if waiting for another flaming Takoyaki. Akira takes the opportunity to eat his own portion, calm settling in when he confirms it is exactly how he wanted it to be.
They eat in comfortable quiet, until Goro places down his bowl. “I’ll be right back.”
Akira nods, sinking back into the cushions, and finishing off his last dregs of soup. He’s about to go back to the kitchen to clear up when Goro comes back, holding an envelope.
“Happy anniversary.”
Akira blinks, mind taking a second to catch up before he takes the offered paper. Goro sits quickly, and Akira can feel the stare as he slowly pulls back the unassuming envelope, and pulls out tickets.
“For your birthday. Well, anniversary present we’ll do on your birthday. It will be colder than the summer trip you did, but a weekend in snowy mountains seems…well, apt.”
He stares at the onsen hotel name, wondering if it is the nice one he remembers. He looks up, blinking a few times in wonder. Goro’s cheeks turn red, a pleased expression he hides with a slight scowl and averted gaze.
“Why are you so surprised?”
“I just…” Akira swallows. Sure, he’d put an equal amount of effort into his present, but the shock of receiving such a gift for some reason just stuns him into silence.
A hand touches his cheek, one already familiar enough for him to lean in without question. Goro’s palm is warm, a little too warm as it strokes across his chin. Akira looks up, still off-kilter but so immensely at peace in the same moment as he meets Goro’s gaze.
“Happy anniversary, Akira,” Goro says again, this time softer, with perhaps the same amount of wonder that Akira’s feeling now.
He pulls away from Goro's hand just enough to turn his head, placing a kiss at the edge of his wrist. Goro’s mouth clicks, dry and a little startled, his eyes darkening infinitesimally for a split second as Akira lets a second kiss linger.
But Goro pulls away. “I’m sick,” he chastises, and Akira rolls his eyes, snatching Goro’s hand as he leans over to his bag by the sofa.
“It’s not as fancy,” he warns, that familiar concern washing over.
“Good, I don’t want fancy. Although I do want to try that restaurant another time.”
“I’ll check your calendar,” Akira says, finding the small pouch as Goro tightens his hand at the mocking.
Goro inspects the pouch with delighted curiosity as Akira presents it to him. He looks so gleeful, always does when switching gifts, making Akira’s heart ache for all he doesn't have. Reluctantly, he lets go of Akira’s hand to open it.
Akira’s somewhat nervous as Goro pulls out the earring, but it vanishes in the second Goro realises what it is.
“It’s perfect,” Goro says, still staring at the earring, that toothy smile back as he twists it in the light.
Warmth courses, sickly and slow from what feels like Akira’s heart to every corner of his being. His hand lifts to his head, twisting a lock of his hair once again. Part of him absurdly wants to burst into tears as Goro rapidly removes his current stud before clicking the new hoop in place. As soon as he does, he turns his head towards Akira, tucking his hair behind his ear.
Goro’s right; it does look perfect. Even with the faint flush of sickness and the less than pristine atmosphere, it is oddly imperfectly perfect in a way Akira could never have understood mattered.
With a speed Akira’s not anticipating, Goro swoops forward, cupping his face once again, but this time kissing his cheek before pulling back. Akira just about resists lifting a finger to trace the imprint, instead allowing the skin to fizz in memorial.
“What happened to being sick?”
Goro shrugs, the earring moving with him. “You were the one who said it didn’t matter. Besides, I think it’s time for dessert.”
Akira knows that’s not an innuendo, but it still takes him a moment to catch his breath. Which he knows Goro catches, by the smirk on his face, but hey, Akira’s not ashamed.
“What are we watching?” he calls instead as he plates up the shop-bought tiramisu.
Goro grumbles something but after a moment, the now familiar sound of a game show fills the space. Akira shakes his head, smiling, as he carries the bowls back in.
“I’m catching up on last month’s. From my exam period,” Goro says, eyeing Akira as if he’d dare say anything.
Akira simply hands him the bowl, then settles back onto the couch, allowing the show to fizzle in and out of his brain.
“This is good,” Goro says, taking a large second bite.
“Way better than my attempts at making it,” Akira agrees.
Goro shifts, turning to look at him. “You tried to make it?”
“It’s hard,” Akira laments, then turns his gaze back to the TV, shifting a little. “Wanted to do something special. For you.”
It comes out as stilted as the emotions feel. Akira understands that he could obsess on the not good enough or will never make anything or myself feelings until he’s blue in the face. Some days, it’s such an impossible cycle to break out of.
And yet, when he’s here, with Goro in a small room full of their combined memories, doing something as simple as existing in a shared space with a shared meal, it doesn’t seem to matter as much.
There’s a pause as the gameshow drones on, the panel doing some sort of trick Akira doesn’t have any context for, until Goro tips to his side, resting his head onto Akira’s shoulder. Akira immediately moves to him, so they're resting together, hands finding one another without needing to look.
A second, a moment, and the world feels as if it’s so small and vast in the same second.
“You did. You have. And you always do,” Goro says.
It blooms and grounds Akira instantly, that reassurance of what he’s always known.
That grandeur and once in a lifetime is fun and has its moments. But it isn’t the be-all and end-all and perhaps, it’s not even what either of them want. Not when you can have comfort and meaning in the quietest of ways.
And really, it seems in more ways than one, they both needed this.
“Happy anniversary, Goro,” Akira says, pressing a lingering kiss into his hair.
Here’s to many more , he thinks, and that in itself, is the most extravagant feeling he could ever wish for. The promise of more tomorrows.