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The first thing Kazuha noticed wasn't the plane.
It was the way Scara had smiled that morning.
Not his usual crooked grin that always looked as though he'd just gotten away with something. Not the arrogant, teasing smile that had charmed investors, journalists, board members, and, unfortunately for his heart, himself.
No.
This smile was quieter.
Careful.
Like he was holding an entire universe behind his eyes.
He should have known then.
Instead, Scara only laughed as Kazuha slipped on his coat.
"You're staring."
"I've been staring at you for three years."
"You literally live with me."
"And?"
Scara rolled his eyes fondly.
"And somehow I still haven't gotten used to you."
His hand found Kazuha’s automatically, fingers weaving together like puzzle pieces worn smooth by years of habit. There wasn't a moment of hesitation anymore. Loving each other had become instinct.
Like breathing.
Like gravity.
Three years.
Three years after Scaramouche had unexpectedly become the youngest CEO in the company's history after Raiden retired early and handed him the position even after being estranged for years. Everyone assumed he'd fumble.
He hadn't.
Against every prediction, he'd transformed the company into something extraordinary.
The media called him brilliant.
Visionary.
Dangerously ambitious.
The tabloids called him the Billionaire King.
Kazuha still called him an idiot whenever he left coffee mugs around the apartment.
His favourite title, by far.
"You still haven't told me where we're going."
"It's a surprise." said Scara, offering a shit-eating grin, like a fox that had just caught a rabbit in its trap.
"I hate surprises."
"You love surprises."
"I love surprises when they involve maple cookies."
"There might be cookies."
He narrowed his eyes.
"There aren’t cookies, are there?”
"...No."
Kazuha sighed dramatically.
"I knew I should've stayed home."
Scara laughed, actually laughed, and leaned over the centre console to kiss Kazuha’s forehead while their driver navigated through the city.
"You'll forgive me, darling”
"I'll consider it, sweetheart" Kazuha smiled with mock-saccharinity
The private jet gleamed beneath the afternoon sun.
Kazuha stopped walking.
"...Scara."
"What?"
"You rented a plane."
"I own the plane."
"That's worse."
"I thought you'd like the view."
"I would've liked a normal date."
"This is normal."
He stared.
"You and I have very different definitions of normal."
Inside, the cabin looked less like transportation and more like an expensive apartment floating through the sky.
Cream leather seats.
Dark walnut tables.
Fresh flowers.
The scent of coffee lingering in the air.
Kazuha kicked off his shoes the second they sat down.
Scara smiled.
"Comfortable already?"
"I'm taking advantage of billionaire privileges."
"They're your privileges too."
"They're your bank account."
"Our bank account."
Kazuha looked at his boyfriend over the rim of his coffee cup.
"...You merged our finances because you said remembering two passwords was 'annoying.'"
"It was."
"You are unbelievable."
"So I've been told."
The engines hummed softly beneath them.
Clouds drifted lazily outside.
The city slowly disappeared beneath blankets of countryside.
He rested his head against Scara’s shoulder.
For several minutes, neither of them spoke.
They'd always been good at silence.
Some couples filled every pause.
They filled them with comfort instead.
Her fingers absent-mindedly traced circles over the back of his hand.
Kazuha remembered another hand.
Another day.
Three years earlier.
Scara hadn't been rich then.
Well… his mother had cut him off from the family company, so he had to do what he could to ride up the ranks of the business world.
He'd been comfortable.
Successful.
But not this.
Not billionaire successful.
He'd picked Kazuha up after work on his shocking purple motorcycle, fully adorned with lightning stickers and strange little purple cats, apologising because he'd forgotten reservations at the tiny Italian restaurant he’d mentioned wanting to try.
"I'm sorry."
"You forgot."
"I forgot."
"You forgot."
"I know."
"So..."
"So."
"...We're getting takeaway?"
"We're getting takeaway."
"And watching terrible action movies?"
"The worst."
And Kazuha just smiled.
"Perfect."
Later that night, while sharing noodles from the same carton, he’d looked over at him.
"You know..."
"Hm?"
"If you ever become ridiculously rich..."
He laughed. "Not likely."
"...Promise me something."
"What?"
"You won't become one of those billionaire weirdos."
"What counts as billionaire weird?"
"I don't know."
"Private islands?"
"Yes."
"Pet tiger?"
"Definitely."
"Rocket launches?"
"...Questionable."
He'd reached across the sofa, brushing noodles from the corner of Kazuha’s mouth with his thumb.
"I don't care how much money I make."
His voice had been so certain.
"So long as I get to come home to you."
He'd kept that promise.
The apartment had become a penthouse.
The violet motorcycle had become several luxury cars.
Dinner reservations became Michelin stars.
Vacations became countries Kazuha only ever dreamed about wandering in.
But somehow...
He was still the same man who stole fries off his plate because "they taste better when they're yours."
Kazuha smiled to himself at the memory.
"What?"
"You remembered to pack my headphones."
"You noticed?"
"You always forget."
"I set three reminders."
"I'm proud of you."
He looked absurdly pleased.
Something felt...
Off.
Not wrong.
Different.
He kept checking his watch.
Looking out the window.
Tapping his fingers.
His knee bounced beneath the table.
Kazuha frowned.
"You're nervous."
"I'm not."
"You've reorganised those coasters four times."
"...They're uneven."
"They're circles."
"They can still be uneven."
The plane began descending.
Fields spread beneath them like an enormous patchwork quilt stitched together in shades of emerald and gold.
Late afternoon sunlight spilled across the landscape.
Everything glowed.
It looked unreal.
Like someone had painted the countryside using melted honey.
Scara stood.
"...Come here."
Kazuha followed him toward one of the larger windows.
"What?"
"Look outside."
He blinked.
"What am I looking-"
Then he saw it.
At first it looked like ordinary farmland.
Rows and rows of corn stretching endlessly toward the horizon.
Then-
The letters.
Huge.
Perfectly carved into the crops.
WILL YOU MARRY ME?
His breath caught.
"...Scara..."
He laughed.
Then immediately burst into tears.
"Oh my God."
His hands flew over his mouth.
"N-no- wha-"
Turning around, Scara wasn't beside him anymore.
He was kneeling.
Not with the effortless confidence the world knew him for, not like the billionaire CEO who could command boardrooms with a single sentence or negotiate deals worth more money than most people could comprehend.
This Scaramouche looked nothing like that man.
One knee rested against the polished cabin floor, the expensive fabric of his trousers wrinkling beneath him. His shoulders, usually held so straight, had sunk ever so slightly beneath the weight of anticipation. Both hands cradled a small navy velvet box, though they weren't nearly as steady as he wanted them to be. Kazuha could actually see the faint tremor running through his fingers.
He was terrified.
Not of failure.
Not of embarrassment.
Of his answer.
He had been betrayed three times: by his mother, cutting him out of the family because she deemed him as ‘weak’ and unfit for the ever changing standards of her elitist ideals; his friend who abandoned him the moment Raiden had enough; and a sickly child he grew close with in the hospital- dying before Scara had a chance to thank him.
The overwhelming fear of being rejected by the one person who he loved so fully and unapologetically was more than he could bear.
His mother’s resentment echoed in his ears.
‘Useless’
‘Weak’
‘…pathetic’
But he glanced up and the world went quiet.
Raiden can piss off as far as he was concerned.
The man he loved was standing there so beautifully, his red streak gleaming in the evening sun, radiating kindness.
Hope flickered behind impossibly purple eyes, eyes Kazuha memorised years ago, eyes that had watched him laugh until he cried over terrible films, watched him asleep with his cheek squashed against the pillow, watched him dance barefoot around their kitchen at two in the morning because their favourite song had come on.
Those same eyes searched Kazuha’s face now as though it held the answer to every question he'd ever asked in life.
For a heartbeat, the luxurious cabin disappeared.
There were no leather seats.
No private jet.
No designer suit worth more than most people's monthly rent.
Only him.
Only the man he’d fallen in love with.
The same man who had once forgotten their anniversary dinner because he'd become distracted planning a weekend away to surprise Kazuha.
The same man who still stole fries from his plate despite ordering his own.
The same man who, after three years together, still looked at him as though he’d hung every star in the sky himself.
He let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
"I..." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly before letting one hand fall back to the ring box. "I had a speech."
His voice cracked on the last word.
His cheeks flushed.
"...It was a really good speech, too."
Kazuha couldn't help it.
A watery laugh escaped him between tears, his hand flying to cover his mouth as another sob threatened to spill out with it.
"You practised it, didn't you?"
"For weeks."
His smile turned crooked.
"In the mirror."
Another embarrassed pause.
"...To the dog."
That earned an actual laugh.
"You don't even like the dog."
"I know."
"And you still rehearsed to him?"
"He was a fantastic audience."
He laughed harder, shaking his head as tears blurred his vision all over again.
"I forgot all of it," he admitted with a helpless shrug. "Every single word disappeared the second you turned around."
"You don't have to remember it."
"I know."
His gaze softened.
"I probably won't remember anything I say from this point onwards either."
The engines hummed quietly around them, almost respectful in their distance, leaving the silence between them warm instead of empty.
He drew in another slow breath, trying to steady himself.
"You know..." His thumb traced the edge of the velvet box absentmindedly. "I spend most of my life making plans."
Kazuha listened without interrupting.
"Five-year projections."
A small smile.
"Company expansions."
He glanced away for just a second before finding her eyes again.
"Business strategies."
His voice dropped.
"Every meeting I go to, every decision I make..." He gave a tiny, almost self-conscious laugh. "Everyone thinks I'm planning for the future."
"I am."
"The thing is..." His voice dipped almost to a whisper. "Every future I picture already has you in it."
Kazuha felt his breath catch.
"I don't imagine buying another company unless you're there complaining about how many emails I ignore. I don't picture another house unless you're filling it with books and plants I swear I won't kill this time." He laughed quietly at himself before continuing. "I don't even think about growing old without seeing you somewhere nearby, telling me I'm being dramatic because my back hurts."
"I don't care where we end up," he said softly. "I don't care if one day all of this disappears."
He gestured vaguely around the luxurious cabin- the polished walnut tables, the leather seats, the quiet wealth surrounding them.
"If tomorrow I lost every company I own... every car... every house..." He gave a self-conscious little shrug. "...Even this ridiculously expensive plane."
He laughed wetly through another sob.
"I'd still be the luckiest man alive if I got to come home to you."
His gaze drifted briefly toward the window, where sunlight spilled across the patchwork fields below.
"I've flown over cities. Oceans. Mountain ranges." His voice was thoughtful now, almost distant, as though he were remembering each place as he spoke. "I've watched the sunrise from thirty thousand feet and seen thunderstorms from above the clouds. I've stood on rooftops overlooking skylines people travel halfway across the world to see."
Scara turned back to him.
"And somehow..."
A smile, impossibly tender, found its way onto his face.
"...the most beautiful view I've ever had has always been you looking back at me."
That was what finally broke him.
Kazuha’s face crumpled as another sob escaped before he could swallow it back.
He couldn't help laughing, though his own eyes had begun to glisten.
"Oh, no," he murmured affectionately. "Don't cry yet."
"I'm trying," he managed between shaky breaths.
Scara tilted his head, pretending to study him with exaggerated seriousness.
"You are objectively failing."
"I know."
"This is entirely your fault."
"I'll happily take the blame for you, my love…. my soul…. my life-"
“Scara stop!” Kazuha bashfully tugged at Scara’s hair.
His smile trembled as he finally opened the velvet box.
Nestled inside, the simple silver band caught the sun and scattered it into a thousand tiny shards of light across the cabin ceiling. It wasn't oversized or ostentatious. It didn't need to be. It was elegant, timeless, chosen with such obvious care that it felt less like jewellery and more like a promise made tangible.
"I've loved you for three years," he said, never once taking his eyes off him.
"It somehow feels like thirty... and yesterday all at once."
He laughed softly under his breath.
"I still wake up every morning excited that you're next to me. I still text you from the other room just because I can. Every time I hear your keys outside our apartment, I still catch myself smiling before you've even walked through the door."
He shook his head, almost in disbelief at himself.
"I didn't think it was possible to keep falling in love with the same person."
His voice became so quiet Kazuha almost had to lean forward to hear him.
"But every morning... I do. You… Kazuha.. y-you gave me a reason to live. A reason to love myself again after my mother, I-"
For a long moment, Scara simply looked at him.
Really looked at him.
As though he wanted to memorise every tear, every trembling smile, every tiny detail of the man he'd chosen long before this moment.
Then he swallowed, his composure finally giving way to raw nerves.
"So..." A small, breathless smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Will you marry me?"
Silence answered him.
Not uncertain silence.
Not hesitation.
The kind of silence that comes when happiness arrives so suddenly that language simply can't keep up.
Kazuha crossed the space between them before he’d consciously decided to move.
Dropping onto his knees, he cupped his face in both hands.
His thumbs brushed over Scara’s flushed cheeks.
His skin was warm.
Real.
Scara searched his expression with almost painful hope.
"You absolute idiot," Kazuha whispered, laughing through tears.
His brows knit together immediately.
"...Is..."
He hesitated.
"...is that a yes?"
Instead of answering, Kazuha kissed him.
Not hurriedly.
Not desperately.
Slowly.
Tenderly.
He poured every thank you, every I love you, every yes he’d ever have into that single kiss.
He could taste salt from both of their tears.
When she finally pulled back, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the tiny space between them.
Kazuha’s smile trembled.
"Yes."
Scara stared.
Like wasn't entirely convinced he'd heard him correctly.
"...Yeah?"
He laughed softly.
"Yes."
"Really?"
He leaned forward to steal another quick kiss.
"Really."
"You'll marry me?"
He laughed again, wiping another tear from his cheek before it could fall.
"I'm going to marry you, Scara."
The grin that spread across his face was blinding.
It arrived slowly at first, then all at once, stretching so wide it transformed him into the carefree young man he’d first fallen in love with years ago.
Joy lit him from the inside out.
"I..." He let out a shaky laugh, almost disbelieving. "I genuinely thought there was a chance you'd say no."
He blinked.
"...You hired a plane."
"...I did."
"You carved 'Will You Marry Me?' into an entire cornfield."
"...Also true."
"You flew me over it."
"I did."
"And after all that..."
He stared at him in complete disbelief.
"...you still thought I'd say no?"
He gave one tiny shrug.
"You never know."
He laughed so hard he nearly cried all over again.
"You are unbelievable."
His smile softened.
"So you keep telling me."
His hands still trembled as he lifted the ring from its box.
With infinite care, as though he were something precious enough to break beneath careless hands, he slid it onto his finger.
It fit perfectly.
Of course it did.
Scara barely had time to admire the way it caught the light on Kazuha’s fingers before he threw himself at him.
The force of the hug sent them both tumbling sideways onto the cabin floor in a graceless tangle of laughter, expensive tailoring, and limbs.
The ring box rolled harmlessly across the carpet.
Neither of them cared.
He laughed into his long hair, holding him as tightly as though he worried he’d disappear if he loosened his grip.
"I think," Kazuha mumbled against his shoulder, still smiling so hard his cheeks hurt, "billionaires are supposed to propose with a little more dignity."
Scara kissed the top of his head.
"I can schedule another one."
He looked up, mock horror filling his expression.
"Another cornfield?"
"I was thinking lavender."
He burst into laughter.
"I'll pass."
"Good."
His fingers combed gently through his hair before pulling out his hair tie and carding his fingers between the light blonde strands.
"I don't think my heart could survive proposing to you twice."
And judging by the way his heartbeat thundered beneath his cheek, Kazuha believed him.
Outside, the cornfield slowly drifted behind them, the giant question shrinking into the distance.
It no longer mattered.
The answer was sitting in his lap, smiling at him with tear-bright eyes and a ring catching the golden light.
Years from now, people would ask about the proposal.
They'd ask about the private jet.
The billionaire CEO.
The elaborate message carved into a field.
Those things made for good stories.
But privately, they would both remember something else.
The way Scara’s hands had shaken.
The way Kazuha laughed through his tears.
The way, for one suspended moment high above the world, everything they had ever hoped for fit into a single, simple word.
"Yes."
And as Kazuha rested his head on his shoulder, they gazed off into the most beautiful sunset with the promise of tomorrow to carry them through.