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According to the pie crust recipe you had found on instagram, it was supposed to be buttery and the perfect texture between crunchy and soft.
But the thing in front of you…well…
You can't help but grimace at the black edges, some crumbling as you placed some heart shaped apple slices on top in attempt to save it's presentation.
That was a little better.
You sigh and carefully wipe your forehead with your sweater sleeve, hoping that there wasn't any flour dusting there. The heat from the oven had quickly overpowered the mild temperature that the apartment was usually set to and you felt hot and sticky despite the crisp, autumn weather you could see outside the kitchen windows.
The kitchen counters were covered in flour, apple peels and the star and heart shaped cookie cut outs you had wanted to try this year. Your little tower of mixing bowls and measuring cups crowded the kitchen sink in that way that always overwhelmed you a little bit but that was a problem for future you. At least you had that fancy new dishwasher this year.
You glance at your phone where you had Kenma's stream playing in a tiny square above the ad-riddled website with the crust recipe. The game he had been trying out, some indie demo about fishing in an endless ocean, had been replaced with his break splash screen.
"Hey."
Familiar palms slide across your hips, long deft fingers softly rubbing against the sweater that covered your tummy, his thumbs brushing up and down in that grounding caress. His chin gently pressed into your shoulder, the soft black cotton fabric of his over sized hoodie pressed against your back, his warmth easing the tension that had built up in your shoulders from your baking activities.
"Kenma.."
His name turns into a puff of soft, adoring laughter as his hands on your stomach pull you closer to him, arms sliding to lock you close to him, his forehead against your cheek as he presses his lips to your neck.
"Smells good.." he mumbles, soft and mellow against your skin.
You brush some of his messy dark locks out of the way to get a better look of how his golden eyes gleam in the afternoon sun flooding into the kitchen windows, so beautiful and his, the same eyes that had met yours 15 years ago in the high school gymnasium. Cat like eyes you hoped to see shine in the same way for many, many more years. Golden brown like autumn leaves, cinnamon apples and so, so much more.
"You think so? I hope it tastes as good as it smells, but I don't know about that, the crust didn't really come out too goo-"
You're unable to finish your thoughts as he nips gently at your neck, his hands rubbing up your sides.
"It's good."
Not the "..looks good" of five years ago.
Not the "…you didn't have to" of ten years ago.
Not that awkward, wide eyed expression that had graced his face the first time you had clumsily thrust a slice of apple pie onto his school desk, his lips caught in a wobble that looked more mortified than anything else.
Something a little different this year.
"Yeah?" Your cheeks so warm, your lips curved too easily, so tenderly. Your body shifting to face him, heart to heart.
Something so familiar, the way it always was between the two of you.
"Yeah. It's good…."
His forehead against yours, lips a breath apart. His cheeks turned something delicate and pink. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards in that perfect, precious smile you knew so intimately by now, soft like basking in the warmth of speckled sunlight beneath multi colored leaves.
"…Because you made it."
Something a little different, perhaps something marking his 30th year in this life, growing and changing, remaining the same, settling into who he was. Just like how you were.
Becoming a little more comfortable with absolutes, because that's what the two of you were to each other, wasn't that right?
Always and forever your Kenma, day after day, year after year.
His lips pressed against yours, hands beneath your sweater, your hearts entwined.
Another beautiful, happy birthday.