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Sanemi wasn’t often inclined to get fast food. He was an amazing cook, and he valued protein-packed, cost-effective, healthy meals that he could serve up for himself and the love of his life every night.
“This is protein-packed,” Giyuu argued, pointing at the menu of chicken. Fried chicken. From Kentucky Fried Chicken.
“It’s also oil-packed, babe,” Sanemi scoffed. “I could be at home making you a beautiful, Italian dinner right now.”
“But you won’t make KFC at home,” Giyuu said.
“You really prefer this fried shit to my cooking?”
“Variety is good,” Giyuu said. Sanemi narrowed his eyes, but he knew he’d caved—they were already here, weren’t they? And Sanemi was going to pull his wallet out and pay because he loved Giyuu, and there was almost nothing Sanemi would deny him.
This included stepping out of the line before they could actually order because Giyuu was curious about something he spotted out of the window.
“I think they’re fighting,” Giyuu said, pressing his nosy face as close as he could to the window without actually touching the glass. No one else in the establishment was paying any mind to whatever was going on outside, though a few did glance in Giyuu’s direction. Sanemi peered out to see that no one else on the street was paying attention, either—but, sure as shit, there were two men standing a few yards away from each other, very clearly and publicly arguing.
“They look like us,” Sanemi commented. One had stark, white hair, same as Sanemi; the other had long, black hair, same as Giyuu. The black-haired one was the calmer of the two, speaking with his back fully turned to the other man, while the white-haired one was animatedly screaming, nearly red in the face.
“They fight like us, too,” Giyuu muttered. The two of them didn’t fight often, and Sanemi had worked hard to prevent himself from raising his voice anymore—but, Giyuu was spot on, Sanemi used to scream until his eyes were about to bulge out, while Giyuu would barely let an emotion slip into his speech. Giyuu’s stoic expression, monotone voice, and ‘nothing-can-bother-me’ attitude used to piss Sanemi off to no end. Sanemi understood him much more, these days, and loved him dearly. He was glad they had moved far past that point before arriving at whatever point the two in front of them were at.
“I wonder what they’re on about,” Sanemi mumbled. He glanced at the door, at the line, and decided, why not? He and Giyuu weren’t starving, and they didn’t have anything exciting on their agenda today.
Sanemi pulled Giyuu toward the door, and they quietly exited. They stood off to the side of the entrance, a little closer to the fighting . . . couple? . . . to hear what they were talking about.
“I’ve decided how to live my life,” the black-haired one said, firm and final. “It’s just a matter of doing the best I can to achieve my goals.”
He turned and began to walk away, which had Sanemi a bit disappointed; he wanted more context. What were they fighting about? Were the two of them lovers? Exes?
Giyuu wondered out loud, “Did they just break up?”
The white-haired one was clearly on the verge of tears, still angry and red in the face. His hands were shaking, and he was breathing so hard Sanemi could see his chest moving from where he stood peeking around the KFC building. Sanemi couldn’t help but snicker, turning his face into Giyuu’s shoulder so he didn’t get caught laughing or staring.
“That’s unfortunate,” Giyuu mumbled. Sanemi glanced back at the white-haired guy, who was still standing there, shaking, watching the black-haired guy walk calmly away. The moment was so tense, Sanemi couldn’t believe no one else was stopping and staring.
“Damn,” Sanemi said, watching the white-haired guy drag his tail down the street. When he disappeared into the crowd, Sanemi looked back at Giyuu. “If you ever did that to me, I’d kill everyone on the street and then myself.”
“I know,” Giyuu said. “See what happens when you don’t cook at home? Dinner and a show. We should get fast food more often.”
“Nice try,” Sanemi said. He kissed Giyuu’s knuckles and led his boyfriend back into KFC.
“I hope that guy’s okay,” Giyuu said when they were back in line, three orders behind their original spot.
“I wouldn’t be,” Sanemi said. The thought of Giyuu breaking up with him was more than enough to make him sick, but in public, and with no emotion? He would have no choice but to die right there on the spot. How could he go on?
“Yeah, well, you’re dramatic,” Giyuu said. Sanemi scoffed, offended, “Did that guy look ‘not dramatic’ to you?”
“Touché,” Giyuu said.
“This is why I cook for you,” Sanemi said. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I bet that guy was a terrible cook.”
“We are not better than every other couple out there, Sanemi,” Giyuu scolded.
“Sure we are.” Sanemi was dead serious, too. “We’re together, aren’t we? Not breaking up on the street in front of a fast food place?”
“You’re mean,” Giyuu said, but it was light-hearted, and he loved it. “And I think it’ll take more than just being together if we want to consider ourselves the best.”
“You don’t think we’re the best couple ever?” Sanemi challenged, his eyes narrowed. Giyuu had his eyes glued to the menu, but the corner of his mouth was twitching up into a smile.
“I think you’re the best partner I could ever have,” Giyuu said. “So I don’t think about other couples. Unless we’re watching them break up.”
“Hm, good,” Sanemi said, sneaking a kiss to Giyuu’s shoulder. “I don’t want you ever thinking about other men.”
“Hypocrite.”
“I never think about other men.”
“You’re talking about other couples right now.”
“Yeah, terrible couples that break up in public.” Sanemi clicked his tongue. “Could never be us.”
Giyuu rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling, fond as ever of Sanemi and his antics. “No. It couldn’t.”