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“Don’t get me anything.”
That’s what Niragi had said.
And then Karube had gone to start making a joke and Niragi had fixed him with a look. One of those firm ones that tells Karube to watch whatever he’s going to say and to not argue with him.
“I’m serious, Karube, don’t waste your money.”
Karube wants to say that it’s not a waste, that it’s his money and he can do what he likes with it, including buying Niragi a birthday gift if he so wants to. And he wants to. He cares about Niragi, and they’ve been dating for a while now, and friends for longer. So why shouldn’t he buy Niragi a gift? Even if his funds are kind of dwindling and he’s got some bills to pay and Niragi definitely knows that and it’s probably part of why Niragi doesn’t want him to do it. But Karube still wants to.
Or he wants to do something.
Niragi deserves it. He deserves nice things.
And Karube already missed his birthday last year since Niragi didn’t tell him when it was and he only found out two months later when it was too late. He’s not missing it this year, even if Niragi wants to be a total birthday grinch for whatever reason.
He lets it go for the moment. There’s still a handful of days before Niragi’s birthday, so he has time to figure something out. He has time to plan, to plot. Niragi doesn’t want him to buy anything, then fine, he won’t buy anything, but that doesn’t mean Niragi is going to get away with not receiving a gift.
A gift doesn’t have to be physical and permanent. It can be more abstract than that. A gift can be 29 moments.
And he’s going to start giving them early.
The morning of his birthday, Niragi wakes slowly. Engulfed in warmth, sleepily blinking his eyes open, his vision still blurry. Karube is pressed up against his back. He rarely sleeps in a shirt, so his bare chest is right up against Niragi, his warmth seeping right through the thin fabric of the tee Niragi slept in. As he yawns widely, Karube rumbles a quiet greeting, pressing closer against him. He lean his chin onto Niragi’s shoulder, prickly with stubble.
Niragi looks back at him.
It’s almost obnoxious how attractive he is, even first thing in the morning with his blonde hair messy and sticking out in all directions, his warm brown eyes heavy-lidded, the spattering of freckles across his sculpted cheeks. He sets those eyes on Niragi, making him feel warm and tingly all the way down to the bones. It’s stupid, Niragi thinks, to be so affected by a person.
Shifting, Karube tilts his chin, presses a kiss to the line of Niragi’s shoulder.
“That’s one,” he mumbles against his skin.
Niragi’s brows scrunch.
“What?”
“Happy birthday,” Karube replies instead of giving an explanation.
A small smile twitches onto Niragi’s mouth, but he rolls his eyes anyway.
Niragi doesn’t really like his birthday. For years, he’s barely even celebrated it. He doesn’t have any close friends - or he didn’t until recently. The only person to even wish him a 'happy birthday' in the last few years was his mother, with the implication that she’s saying it on behalf of herself and his father. He sure his coworkers don’t even know when his birthday is. It’s why he had tried to dissuade Karube from doing anything, he doesn’t celebrate, it seems a waste of time to bother with it.
But as soon as Karube had found out when his birthday was, he’d insisted on doing something. Niragi doesn’t want a party. Karube says it’s not a party, that it’s just their friends getting together and hanging out, that it’s at the bar so it’s not really a party - even though Karube makes a deal with his boss to get it 'closed' for the night for a 'private event'.
Niragi agrees so long that nobody buys him any gifts. He’ll let them buy him drinks. Fine, they can have a cake. But no gifts! It’s not that he necessarily hates being the centre of attention, though he hasn’t enjoyed it as much since the meteor incident because of his scars, but it’s more a matter of not wanting them to force themselves to get him something. He’s sure they’d try their best but all he can imagine is a bunch of gifts that miss the mark.
So no gifts. Karube pouts and complains for some time, but eventually agrees and when he sends out a text to the rest of their group, Niragi makes sure that he mentions it.
“Do you really have to go to work? It’s your birthday,” Karube complains as Niragi pulls out of his grasp and gets out of bed.
“It’s still Tuesday. I’ll see you by this evening,” he replies.
Karube huffs at him. He reaches a hand out, fingers sliding over the back of Niragi’s thigh to the curve of his knee as he inches closer. Darting in, he kisses the side of Niragi’s thigh, followed by a quick scrape of teeth.
“Two … Or you could just blow work off and spend the day with me.”
Niragi turns back to him, grabbing him by the chin.
“You can have me all night.”
Karube slips his fingers over the back of Niragi’s hand, curling into his palm. He tugs on Niragi’s hand, pulling it closer as he presses a kiss to the inner side of his wrist.
“That’s three,” he mutters, then squeezes Niragi’s hand, “At least let me make you breakfast. For your birthday.”
Niragi chuckles lightly, his dark brows scrunching again at that little counting comment.
“Fine, you’ve got as long as it takes me to shower.”
As Niragi showers, Karube whips up egg toast and brews coffee and pulls out a roll cake from the fridge that he’d bought the day before. It’s coffee and chocolate, and not a proper cake because they’re having one later, so this is simply a little treat. It doesn’t technically count as a present, and he’ll argue that! He’s not going to let Niragi poke holes in whether or not a breakfast treat counts as a gift.
He’s just finished plating everything up and setting it down on the table as Niragi leaves the bathroom, coming to take his regular seat at the small dining table. His hair’s tied up, but the ends of his hair are slightly damp, some loose long strands hanging around his face. As Karube sets down his cup of coffee, he leans in and presses a kiss to the side of Niragi’s head.
“Four,” he counts to himself.
For a moment, Niragi eyes the roll cake, then shoots Karube a look. Karube says nothing as he sits down across from him, just picks up his own cup of coffee and takes a sip and motions for Niragi to start eating.
With a quiet amused huff, Niragi just picks up his spoon to dive right into the roll cake. A smile twitches at the corner of Karube’s mouth when he sees the pleased little sparkle in Niragi’s eyes as he eats. He’s going to count it as a win, both on the sides of Niragi not arguing with him over it and the fact that he’s clearly enjoying it.
It’s not as if Karube is ever necessarily un-affectionate, but it’s seeming like he’s being particularly extra affectionate today.
Niragi goes to wash up his dishes and Karube steps up behind him, his hands sliding up along his sides, kissing the back of his neck, murmurs "five", and then takes over, telling Niragi that 'the birthday boy doesn’t do dishes'. With a huff of a laugh, he steps aside.
It happens over and over again that morning. A kiss pressed to the back of his hand. "Six". A quick peck on his cheek while he’s doing his hair, tying half of it up in a knot. "Seven". Doing the buttons up on his shirt and Karube slides in to drop a kiss on the bare point of his collarbone. "Eight". As he’s grabbing his wallet and keys and his laptop and Karube strolls past, ducking in to kiss right at the corner of his mouth. "Nine".
“Why are you counting?” Niragi asks.
Karube just smiles, a sharp quirk at the corner of his mouth then he’s strolling away without giving any answer.
Sitting by the front door, Niragi puts his shoes on and grabs his jacket, pulling it on. Bouncing his phone in his hand, he calls out his goodbye, assured that Karube will lock up when he leaves.
“Wait!” Karube shouts, hurrying out of the bedroom, his button-up overshirt hanging half-off, only one arm through a sleeve.
Niragi pauses at the door, hand on the doorknob, and Karube quickens his pace to reach him. He takes Niragi’s face in his hand, dragging him into a kiss. Niragi lets it drag on for maybe a little longer than he should, his fingers curl into the side of Karube’s shirt. Still reluctant but knowing he needs to get to work, he nips at Karube’s bottom lip and pulls back.
“Ten,” Karube hums, then rubs his thumb against Niragi’s cheek, “I’ll see you later.”
“See you at the bar.”
As expected, his coworkers forget his birthday and they don’t realise as the day goes on and he doesn’t say anything. It’s a regular Tuesday, they’re all busy working hard. He didn’t expect them to know it anyway and, with them not knowing, it means he doesn’t get interrupted while he’s working and he can just get into the flow.
By the time it finally hits his clock-off and his phone buzzes at him, his eyes are stinging and his wrists ache. He’s been working longer hours lately, not giving himself enough time to rest, and it’s coming back to bite him in the ass now. Sitting back in his chair, he thumbs over his wrists, massaging them lazily. He gathers up all his stuff, packing it away, shutting down his work computer and putting his own laptop away.
His bus is late, forcing him to rush when he gets home.
He wishes he could just sit and relax. Take a bath, just dress comfortably and laze around, watch tv, text Karube to see when he was coming over. Instead, he’s got to get ready to go down to the bar and spend the next few hours socialising when his battery is already bordering on spent.
He wouldn’t mind having just spent the night with Karube alone.
At the very least, he can take a shower. He stands under the too-hot water for far too long, until his fingers are pruny and the bathroom is filled with steam. He’d tied up his hair that morning while he showered so that he could take the time to do it now. It’s a comforting thing, relaxing, the tiniest recharge of his battery. Towel wrapped around his hips, he leans against the counter, brushing through his hair until there’s not a single knot.
He finishes doing his hair, dresses, grabs his keys and heads out.
Niragi is the last to arrive at the bar, probably on purpose. As he walks in, he’s greeted by a chorus of 'happy birthday's. The group is lined up at the bar and the moment Karube sees him by the door, he hops over the bar with that big sunshine grin that scrunches up the corners of his eyes.
In an instant, an arm is hooking around his neck and Karube is dragging him into a kiss. There’s a few laughs from the group, he hears a whistle that comes undeniably from Kuina.
Karube breaks the kiss and mutters "eleven" to himself before dragging Niragi towards the open seat at the bar. He’s ushered in between Ann and Chishiya, with Kuina on Ann’s other side and Arisu and Usagi on Chishiya’s other side. Karube skirts back around to the other side of the bar, planting his hands atop it when he’s on the other side of Niragi.
“So are we doing cake first or drinks?” he asks.
“Drinks, please,” Niragi replies. It’s been too long of a day and he’s forgone his pain medication so that he can drink instead, so now his wrists and fingers are aching with nothing to numb him.
Chishiya digs into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and flipping it open.
“Get the top shelf stuff,” he says, pulling out his card.
Niragi shoots him a sidelong look.
“You don’t have to —”
“It’s your birthday.”
Niragi huffs a short laugh.
“Whatever. Thanks.”
“Happy birthday.”
After meeting in the hospital, he really hadn’t thought he’d ever see Chishiya again, but apparently life has a way of making things happen. Chishiya had met Arisu and Arisu, of course, was already friends with Karube, so it was only a matter of time before the two ran into each other again, invited out by their respective friends, and the rest is history. In Niragi's opinion, the guy’s much less annoying without the background of the hospital and the days of numbed pain. He's got a dry sense of humour that Niragi appreciates.
Karube turns around to pick through the rows of top shelf whiskey, humming as he runs his fingers along them. The majority are still pretty full, being rarely bought by patrons. They're a bit too expensive for the regular kind of people that frequent this place.
Finally, he picks one and pours Niragi a glass, turning around to set it down in front of him. As he’s taking the first sip, a weight lands on his shoulder as Kuina comes to fit herself between him and Ann. One of her arms leans on Ann’s shoulder, the other on his.
“I can’t believe you wouldn’t let us buy you gifts. Presents are the best part of birthdays,” she complains, “We could’ve all pitched in and got you one of those fancy bottles of whiskey instead of just a glass.”
“It’s a miracle even this is happening at all,” Niragi replies, “I don’t celebrate my birthday.”
Kuina’s face scrunches, pouting.
“Why not?”
He shrugs, sips his drink.
“Don’t see a point.”
“Surviving another year?” Ann suggests, rolling the base of her glass around.
“We did that for New Year’s,” Niragi replies, “And the anniversary in July.”
“Celebrating you,” Karube says, taking Niragi’s free hand, interlacing their fingers, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Twelve.”
Niragi groans. Kuina jokingly gags.
“Eugh, you’re such a sap,” Niragi replies, but there’s a fondness that softens the edge of his tone.
“I’m a romantic,” he argues.
Kuina huffs a laugh, “More like a total tomcat.”
If distance really makes the heart grow fonder, then to Karube, from Niragi’s apartment to his work must be half-the-world away because his over-affection from that morning hasn’t dwindled at all. In fact, he might just be even more impassioned.
As the night goes on, Karube is never far from Niragi for more than a moment. He lingers around him, a brush of his hand, leaning up against him, all random touches here and there.
Kisses "thirteen-fourteen-fifteen" come in quick succession as Karube takes his face into his hands, peppering quick pecks to his lips. "Sixteen" lands on the burn scar on his right cheek as Karube is sliding him and Chishiya refills. "Seventeen" is pressed to his temple as he and Ann discuss the finale episode of a show they’d both been watching. He almost misses "eighteen" because he’s running up his score on the pac-man machine while Arisu watches beside him, but he momentarily feels hands on his hips, a familiar warmth pressed against the back of his shoulder, a quiet mutter.
Karube gets them dinner through what he calls his 'hospitality network'. Niragi goes to tie his hair back and Karube must’ve noticed the slight tremor in his fingers. When they were alone, Karube would take over to help him out and Niragi would let him, tease him and call him 'overbearing'. Even on days when the pain was frustrating, Karube made it easier. He comes to sit down beside Niragi to eat and takes his hand, pressing a kiss to the backs of his fingers and hums a soft 'nineteen'.
It takes over an hour, but Niragi finally gets Karube alone.
They sit together at the bar. Their knees are interlaced since they’re sitting so close and facing each other, Niragi kicking lazily at Karube’s foot. Karube runs his fingertips in mindless traces and circles over the back of Niragi’s hand, over his long fingers.
For a moment, Niragi glances around the bar.
Kuina’s dragged Ann up to dance with her; they’re close, Ann’s hands laid on Kuina’s hips, smiles on both their faces. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder, Arisu is trying to teach Chishiya pac-man, reaching over to guide his hands. Usagi’s standing by to watch, grabbing at Chishiya’s shoulder and pointing at the screen as the ghosts go blue.
A small smile tugs to Niragi’s mouth.
“Not so bad, right?” Karube says, fingertips tapping on his knuckles.
Niragi rolls his eyes a little.
“I would’ve been happy just to spend tonight with you.”
Karube hums lightly, tilts his head.
“Well, if you still want that next year, then that’s what we’ll do.”
A subtle expression crosses Niragi’s face, his gaze flitting over Karube. He’s planning on still being around next year? It’s not like Niragi thought they would break up, but he knows people tended to get sick of him. Maybe he’d assumed Karube would do the same.
Before he can say anything, Kuina comes bounding over, grinning.
“Let’s do cake,” she chimes, grabbing Niragi and Karube by their arms.
Karube laughs.
“You heard the woman, let’s do cake,” he says.
With that, he leans in and gives Niragi a soft kiss.
“Twenty.”
Sitting at the bar, they clear away their used glasses. Karube disappears into the back to go get the cake. He brings it out on a plate, candles already on the top. Strawberry cake, on Karube’s insistence that it’s 'tradition'. Niragi has no clue where he’d gotten the thing, but the strawberries on top are huge and dusted with sugar and there’s berry chunks embedded in thick cream layered inside. Standing next to Niragi, he sets the cake down in front of him, then throws a hand out towards Kuina, crooking his fingers.
Kuina’s mouth makes an 'oh' and she scrabbles around in her pockets, pulling out a small lighter. She doesn’t smoke anymore, but she still carries it around. Karube takes it, flicks the wheel and lights the candles. There’s not 29 of them, only enough to be squeezed in between the strawberries and one right in the middle.
Niragi doesn’t really minds on the lesser amount. Ever since the meteor, fire has made him particularly uncomfortable. As such, the group don’t get more than halfway through their 'happy birthday' song before he’s blowing all the candles out.
Karube chuckles, his arm wrapping around Niragi as he leans against him.
“Happy birthday, Niragi,” he says, pressing a kiss to his cheek, following it with a quiet "twenty-one".
Niragi cuts up the cake, divvying it out to everyone.
When everyone’s got a piece, he picks up his own plate and takes a few bites, scooping strawberry off the top. It’s not overly sugary, only the strawberries that are fresh and sweet, a fine dusting of powdered sugar on the top. As he’s eating, he realises he can’t remember the last time he’s had cake like this, on his own birthday especially.
He does remember a cake his mother had made him when he was seventeen. That birthday, he’d had bruised ribs and a broken hand. He’d had to learn to adapt to using his non-dominant hand, not only for writing but for eating too. It had been a tiramisu cake, dusted in cocoa and slightly lopsided. His father had been working late that day so it was just him and his mother. When they’d finished eating dinner, she’d flipped the light off and brought the cake in with a single candle lit on the top. She’d sung 'happy birthday' alone. There’d been no party, no friends.
He feels a little guilty now. He should’ve called her today, but it’s too late now. How long has it been since he’s gone to see her? His eyes slide over towards Karube. She’d like Karube. Everyone likes Karube, that’s just a given, but it’s something else when it comes to his mother. She’d like him because Niragi likes him, because he makes Niragi happy. Sometimes he thinks that’s all she’s ever wanted for him, to be happy.
Maybe he should go visit her. Maybe he should bring Karube with him.
Karube seems to notice him staring and breaks into a smile.
“What?” he asks.
Niragi shakes his head lightly.
“Nothing,” he replies. He takes another bite of cake. “This cake’s good. Are you going to eat that?”
He jabs towards the large strawberry sitting on Karube’s plate, clearly set aside to be eaten last. Karube jerks his plate out of the way.
“Hey - hey!”
“Karube, it’s my birthday,” Niragi says, joking, making another stab for it.
So it goes, all good things end and the party soon does.
Kuina squeezes him in a hug before she leaves with Ann. Like Karube, she runs comfortably warm. Ann nods her own goodbye, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze. Chishiya bumps lightly into his arm. They say their goodbyes to each other, Chishiya grants him 'happy birthday' again. At the door, Arisu and Usagi call their goodbyes over to him, waving as they go and Chishiya leaves with them. Niragi has been getting more and more curious about that, they seem … rather close.
Soon enough, it’s just him and Karube finally alone.
Behind the bar, Karube gets started on cleaning up and Niragi stands up from his seat to help him.
“Hey, what did I say about birthday boy not needing to clean up?” he says.
Niragi huffs lightly, rolling his eyes.
“If I help, then we can get out of here quicker,” he replies, quirking his brows, intentions obvious.
Karube looks back at him as it clicks.
“Well if that’s still on the table, then help away.”
Niragi chuckles.
“I’ll help you here, but I expect you to do all the work when we get home.” His eyes flash towards Karube, glinting. “It is my birthday.”
Karube laughs and leans in, pressing a kiss to the corner of Niragi’s mouth.
“Twenty-two,” he murmurs, then grins, “Well since it’s your birthday.”
Both of them know Karube gives as good as he gets, always happy to be the 'giver' no matter how Niragi tries to flip it.
They both get to work then. Karube still won’t let him wash up, so he gathers up all the dishes and glasses, carrying them back for him to wash up instead. When they’re done, they grab the cake and head out onto the street. Karube locks the doors behind them.
'Twenty-three' and 'twenty-four' land on his knuckles and the back of his hand as they’re riding in the taxi back to Niragi’s place, because Niragi had been fidgeting, drumming his fingers on the top of the plastic container of the cake sitting on his lap. 'Twenty-five' is pressed against his nape as he’s unlocking the door. 'Twenty-six' hits the curve of his knee cap as he sits to take off his shoes but before he can even reach the laces, Karube passes the cake box back to him and he kneels down to help instead.
Jackets are removed and hung up, then Niragi turns and heads to the kitchen to put the cake in the fridge. Karube stands and leans against the doorway, a soft smile on his face while watching him as he moves things around to make room on the fridge shelves. When Niragi finally swings the fridge door shut, he takes a step forward, pressing 'twenty-seven' to his lips.
Niragi’s hands find his hips, pulling them closer together. His pierced tongue flicks against Karube, eager to get to what he’s been waiting for all night, but Karube pulls back.
“Wait, one more thing,” he says, then he’s escaping Niragi’s grasp as he hurries back to the entry, digging into his jacket pocket.
Niragi follows after him a few steps, brows scrunching in confusion.
“Aha!” Karube proclaims as he pulls something out.
It’s a small box, wrapped with a silver ribbon and tied in a bow at the top. He turns around and pushes it into Niragi’s hands. It’s only a couple of inches tall and wide.
A frown pulls to Niragi’s mouth.
“I told you not to buy me anything.”
“I didn’t!” Karube defends. “You said I couldn’t buy you anything, you didn’t say I couldn’t get you anything. I already had this. It was mine and now I’m giving it to you. Open it.”
Niragi fixes him with a look, then huffs and looks down at the box. It’s small and solid black, easily fitting in his palm, the tied bow has one loop slightly larger than the other. Tugging on one end of the ribbon easily unravels the bow. He twines the silver ribbon between his fingers, then wiggles the lid of the box open.
Inside lays a ring.
Not an engagement ring or anything so presumptuous or even necessarily extravagant. Just a muted silver ring of hammered metal, the surface rugged and textured. Switching the box to his left hand, he tips the ring out onto the palm of his right, letting it glint in the light.
“You’ve got all those piercings but you don’t wear enough jewellery,” Karube explains, “And you’ve got such nice hands, you should accessorise them.”
He plucks the ring off Niragi’s palm, sliding it onto the middle finger of his right hand. It’s an exact snug fit, no risk of it accidentally slipping off. Karube’s thumb smooths against his palm.
“There, perfect,” he says softly.
He brings Niragi’s hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to the side of his first knuckle. Niragi’s thumbtip brushes beside the corner of his mouth.
“That’s twenty-eight,” Karube murmurs into his skin.
Confused curiosity bristles Niragi.
“Seriously, what is that about?” he asks pressingly.
Karube moves up. His free hand slides into Niragi’s hair, pulling him into a kiss, their mouths slotting together as if it’s all they were made to do. When they finally break apart, both of them are breathing a little harder.
“Twenty-nine kisses for your birthday,” Karube says. Then kisses him again, “Thirty, for good luck.” Another kiss, as if he can’t help himself. “Thirty-one for —“
“Stop prematurely aging me,” Niragi jokes, still a little breathless, pressing a hand to the front of Karube’s throat to push him back slightly before he can steal another kiss.
“I was gonna say 'for the hell of it'.”
Niragi huffs a quiet laugh. His hand slides up to cup Karube’s freckled cheek into his palm, the ring glinting on his finger.
“For the hell of it, then.”
Smiling, Karube leans in to kiss him, and Niragi thinks celebrating his birthday isn’t that bad after all.