Work Text:
Soren is kneeling on the living room floor, a suitcase cracked open like it’s been waiting years for this moment.
“These are from my culinary school trips,” he explains as he lift each item with care. “Some were… cultural exchanges. Some were gifts. Some were bad decisions.” he said holding out his laugh.
Roa is sitting cross-legged on the couch, chin in his palm, already smiling as he watch him unfurl his stupidly large hats collection he had since his university years.
Soren pulls out the first one.
A floppy straw hat with an uneven brim.
“Market in Vietnam,” he says. “Too hot. Vendor felt bad for me.”
“Cute,” Roa says immediately.
Soren pauses. Too fast.
“It’s practical.”
“Still cute.”
Next comes a knitted beanie with ear flaps.
“Finland,” Soren continues. “They said I’d freeze.”
Roa leans forward. “You look like a baby seal.”
Soren sighs but puts it on anyway.
Then— he hesitates.
He reaches deeper into the suitcase and pulls out… a plush bunny hat. Long ears. Soft baby pink color.
“…Japan,” he says quietly. “The class dared me.”
Roa makes a noise that can only be described as a wounded animal.
“Put it on,” Roa breathes.
“No.”
“Please.”
Soren exhales, resigned, and pulls it on.
The ears flop.
Roa visibly short-circuits. You can hear that he stopped his breathing, until-
“Oh my god,” Roa says, already standing. “You’re cute. You’re actually so cute. Why are you this cute.”
Soren’s ears turn red. “It’s a hat. You're overreacting.”
“You’re wearing a bunny hat,” Roa insists, hands hovering like he wants to touch but knows he’ll explode if he does. “Look at you. Look at your face.”
Soren clears his throat and, without ceremony, reaches back into the suitcase and pulls out something else.
He tosses it at Roa.
Roa catches it. Blinks.
“…Is this a fish head.”
“Yes,” Soren says calmly. “Norway.”
It is, unmistakably, a novelty fish head hat. Glassy eyes. Open mouth. Questionable texture.
Roa stares at it.
Then at Soren.
“…You’re serious?.”
“Put it on,” Soren says.
Roa does.
The effect is immediate. Ridiculous. Undeniable.
Soren looks at him for a long second.
“…You look like you lost a fight with the ocean.”
Roa grins, fish mouth gaping. “Yeah? is it cute?”
Soren’s lips twitch despite himself.
“…Yes,” he admits. “Unfortunately.”
Roa beams. Steps closer, towering over him, fish head wobbling.
“You started this,” Roa says fondly. “You’re cute.”
Soren reaches up and flicks one of the bunny ears down over Roa’s face.
“Sit,” he says. “Before you break something.”
Roa sits.
Still smiling.
While he's continue disorganizing his lumps of hats, Roa's already gone rummaging through the drawer.
“I’m taking pictures,” Roa says, pulling out his old camera like it’s a sacred relic. “This deserves documentation.”
Soren squints at it. “Is that the one that eats film?”
“It chews film,” Roa corrects. “Different.”
He lifts the camera, squints through the viewfinder, then immediately freezes.
“…Wear it again. The bunny one.”
“I am wearing it.”
“No, wear it properly.”
Soren sighs, adjusts the bunny hat so the ears hang evenly, and looks up with a tired, patient expression that makes Roa’s finger slam the shutter on instinct.
Click.
“Oh that was good,” Roa mutters. “That was wickedly good.”
Soren blinks. “You didn’t warn me.”
“That was the warning.”
Soren reaches back into the suitcase and starts pulling hats out one by one, lining them up on the floor.
“If we’re doing this,” he says calmly, “we’re doing it right.”
Roa’s eyes light up.
They cycle through them like it’s a fashion shoot nobody asked for.
A massive sombrero that slides down over Soren’s eyes.
Click.
A chef’s hat so tall it tilts when he moves.
Click.
A fuzzy trapper hat that makes his cheeks look rounder.
Roa audibly whines behind the camera.
“You’re unbearable,” Roa says, voice shaking. “Do you know that?”
Soren reaches out, grabs the fish head hat, and plops it onto Roa again.
"This one looks so stupid." Roa laughs, loud and unguarded, fish mouth flopping open.
“Too bad, it's your turn.”
They switch positions. Soren takes the camera carefully, like it might explode.
“I don’t know how to use this,” he admits.
“Just point and—”
Soren presses the button mid-sentence.
Click.
Roa freezes.
“…Did you just take one.”
Soren nods. “Your face was nice.”
Roa looks away, suddenly very interested in fabric of the fish hat.
“Do it again,” he says. “That one doesn’t count.”
They keep going until the room is littered with hats, the film counter ticking down, laughter slowing into something soft and warm.
At one point, Roa lowers the camera and just looks at Soren, bunny hat crooked, hair escaping the tie.
“…I’m glad you kept these,” Roa says quietly.
Soren shrugs. “Didn’t know why. Just felt wrong to throw them away.”
Roa lifts the camera one last time.
Click.
“This one’s just for me,” he says.
Oh, he remembered something.
"Can we take selfies?" He leaned into him a little too fast almost toppled over. A bit to excited that one.
….
"We can try."
Roa realizes too late that taking selfies with a manual camera was a mistake.
“Okay,” he mutters, arm fully extended, squinting past the bunny ears. “If I lean just a little more—”
Soren, wearing the fish head hat, leans in the opposite direction on purpose.
The frame clicks blind.
Click.
They stare at the camera.
“…Do you think we got either of us,” Soren asks.
Roa sighs. “We got the wall or maybe the lamp.” unsure
Soren immediately brightens. “Again.”
This time Soren grabs Roa by the coat collar and drags him down so their heads are level, bunny ears smacking Roa in the cheek.
“Wait- I’m not ready-
Click.
Roa splutters, half-laughing. “You can’t ambush a man like that.”
“You said candid,” Soren replies serenely.
They swap hats mid-selfie attempt. Roa ends up with the bunny hat; Soren keeps the fish head.
Roa tries to look dignified. It lasts exactly one second.
Soren presses his cheek against Roa’s shoulder, fish mouth pointing dramatically at the lens.
Click.
“Oh no,” Roa groans. “That one’s cursed.”
“Frame it.”
They try a serious one next. Both straight-faced. Still. Academic composure.
The bunny ear flops forward.
Soren snorts.
Roa breaks immediately.
Click.
They dissolve into laughter, Roa nearly dropping the camera as Soren steadies his wrist.
“Careful,” Soren says softly. “That thing’s older than me.”
“So is my dignity,” Roa replies, still smiling.
They end with one last attempt: both of them leaning in too close, hats crooked, faces half-cut off.
Click.
They look at each other.
“…Worth it,” Soren says.
Roa nods. “Absolutely.”
.☘︎ ݁˖.☘︎ ݁˖.☘︎ ݁˖.☘︎ ݁˖