積ん読

“Hm?”

“You ever think about marriage?”

Heterochromic eyes snap open and your boyfriend stares at you from where he was starting to fall asleep next to you. You watch his brain flatline as his face turns eight different shades of pink, each deeper than the previous.

“Relax,” you laugh, “I’m not proposing.”

Haruka makes a choked cough noise and falls back in bed, raising his arms to cover his face as he tries to get his heart rate level.

“We just never talked about it, and I was curious what your thoughts were. What with Umemiya’s wedding shower coming up.”

You roll onto your side to face him, tucking your arm under your pillow so that you could comfortably prepare to assuage whatever spiral he might fall into. Surprisingly, Haruka didn’t look like he was about to explode. He had gotten better about his romance shyness in his adult years, but you were certain bringing up the Big M would have set him off.

Instead, he’s staring up at the ceiling with one forearm over his forehead, the other falling onto his belly. He looks contemplative. Like he’s actually giving your question the appropriate thought. You sit in silence for a minute, hearing the cicadas outside as the summer wind blew the chime you had put on his balcony.

“I hadn’t,” he murmurs softly. “Not until a bit ago.”

You blink, your lashes brushing against the pillow smooshed into your cheek. He turns then, looking at you with the clearest eyes he’s ever had. Rolling onto his own side, he mirrors your pose.

“I spent so long thinking I wasn’t worthy of any of it. That even a year or two into us…sometimes I think I’m gonna wake up and it’s all gonna be a dream. I’ll be back where I was. 15 and angry and scared and…unlovable.”

You brushed your fingers over his cheek, tracing your fingertips over his white hair.

“You were never unlovable,” you smile softly. “You just had to find people worthy of you.”

Haruka tilts his head, pressing a small kiss to the heel of your palm.

“I think about it now. Sometimes. Because of you. You’ve…stuck by me. Put up with my shit. Taught me a lot about relationship stuff. But when I do get serious on it. The marriage thing. Just…”

The fattest of thank yous to Cris on VGen for such a lovely piece of art and adding to my Sakura Haruka Tiger collection <3

(divider credit @cafekitsune | nii satoru sketches 1 & 2)

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writing examples (from 1k to 10k):

Hajime’s birthday spans over two days across three timezones.

The first comes with texts from his friends in Japan—exuberant and excitable, a short-lived time machine that takes him back to his high school days. Mattsun and Makki are always the first, turning it into a competition between each other to see who can get ahold of him first, who can be louder. It always makes his day, arriving at 8 A.M. the morning before, though it’s midnight in Japan.

His parents video call in the afternoon, always falling squarely between his lessons. It’s still the morning for them, just before they must leave for work, and it always makes him miss home more than anything. Their desire for a visit goes unspoken, but the way they talk about how much he’s grown and how happy they are that he found his passion pulls at something beneath the surface. These calls are always followed up with no less than a half-hour spent trying to plan a return visit, intermittently interrupted with trickling messages from the others starting their days in Japan—he responds to these after dinner without fail.

The second consists of a single person—Oikawa. On occasion, he’s been able to come out for the day, arriving at 8 P.M. as though still adhering to Argentina Time. It depends on the demands of the season, but regardless of where he is, Oikawa makes a day of it. Starting with a series of phone calls until Hajime answers, he gifts him an intentionally off-key happy birthday song (at least, you hope it’s intentional). Oikawa will launch into the same tale each year of two children who were destined to meet and become best friends—in the past, if Hajime objected to any of it, Oikawa’s embellishments would only grow, though Hajime’s since learned to let it happen. They catch up as if they don’t regularly talk to one another with Oikawa offering him a goodbye that calls to question your status in Hajime’s life. Unfortunately for you, the second call comes five minutes after Hajime’s first alarm in the morning, much too loud for either of you to process first thing in the morning, but it wouldn’t be his birthday without it.

The third—Hajime’s favorite, something known only between you two—comes at the strike of midnight in California. You wake him with kisses, feather light, enough to rouse him from his slumber with a sleepy smile. Your praise comes to you easily, thanking him for being born, for changing your life, for all the tiny little things he does throughout your shared lives that reflect his love for you. Love pours from you, filling him up until he’s overflowing. Each year, without fail, he’s convinced that holding you like this is the greatest gift he can receive. It goes unspoken, passed between languid kisses and soft touches, something threaded into the foundation of your marriage.

“Happy birthday, Hajime. I’m so very glad that you were born thirty-one years ago.”

His heart swells, your skin soft under his touch as he comes to cup your face. Your lips shape into his favorite smile and he hopes you know that he yearns for many more, just like this.