#frozentears01

There’s no telling if it’s because you just love music or you hate the quiet, but he’s found that wherever you go, the music is sure to follow. It’s gradually ingrained itself into every corner of his home - a portable radio’s stashed away in the bathroom where you keep your toothbrushes; the windchimes you’d scored at last year’s fair are the first thing to greet the two of you on the front porch when you come back from work. Even your phone’s alarms are full to the brim with different songs, most of which you’re always forgetting to turn off unless Shinya reminds you; whether you realize it or not, there’s never a quiet moment when you’re around.

This morning it filters through the crack in his bedroom door, just loud enough to rouse him from the throes of slumber. Sitting up to rest on his elbows, Shinya yawns and runs a hand through his hair as his eyes lazily trail around the expanse of his bedroom. The first thing he notices is that the opposite side of the bed is empty, covers tossed aside to reveal the empty space where you usually sleep; you’re not the only one missing either - usually Cupid’s found curled up on the spare pillow propped next to his own, but just like you the little transient is nowhere to be found. That gets him to wake up, and for a split second Shinya straightens up with a start giving the room another onceover in case he’d missed something.

There’s only a beat of panic that wells up in his sleep-addled brain before a sudden burst of muffled laughter echoes from down the hall, and Shinya’s shoulders slump a little in relief at the sound of your voice. It’s easy to follow the sound of your voice, as even by the time that Shinya’s slipped out of bed and padded out into the hallway to look for you he can still hear you chattering away. That same voice leads him all the way down to the kitchen, where the smell of something cooking only gives him momentary pause to prepare for what he’s going to see before he steps inside.

Shinya’s still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he rounds the corner into the kitchen, and right where the sound is the loudest he finds you in the middle of it all. Various ingredients are scattered around the kitchen counter, all mostly half finished and in various stages of disarray save for the single plate piled high with toast that you occasionally swipe bites from as you cook. Though your back’s to him he just barely catches glimpses of your face, attention pulled towards the stove as you tend to the food you’ve got cooking in a pan. You haven’t bothered changing, still dressed in your sleepwear and one of Shinya’s aprons borrowed from the nearby rack, and right at your side Cupid’s perched, only half visible amongst the bed-head atop your head as he watches you cook while his small hands work to get the kinks out of your hair. It’s an endearing sight, one that is only made more profound by the upbeat croon of music that fills the kitchen. To your left your phone’s propped on the counter running some nondescript playlist, and as one song fades out another takes its place, the unmistakable tune of a cheesy love song crackling to life through the speakers and Shinya recognizes it almost immediately.

It appears you do as well as you instantly perk up at the song, and Shinya barely catches the “Oh hell yeah-” muffled behind a mouthful of bread before you drop your toast and break away from your task at the stove. The sound of your singing breaks in to join with the music, voice still rough and half-asleep and yet it couldn’t sound more soothing to the boy’s ears as he watches you start swaying along with the song, tapping at the pan and counter with the cooking utensil in your hand in time with the song as you do so. At the abrupt movement Cupid’s jostled from his perch atop your head and he rights himself with a start, wings fluttering as he maneuvers to face you to see what you’re doing. The apology you mutter out between chuckles and song isn’t convincing, but it seems the cherub is quick to forgive you as you bring a finger up to run through Cupid’s mess of blonde hair. Cupid grabs on to your finger before you can pull away, and once again that beautiful booming laugh of yours echoes through the kitchen as you maneuver your other hand up for him to hold, shuffling around in a mock ballroom dance.

A polite person would have probably made their presence known by now, and yet Shinya doesn’t breathe a word to interrupt you. Instead he moves to lean against the countertop separating the three of you, resting his arms against the top as he watches you move. This is a side of you that so few are privy to - you spend so much of your time with people only seeing the parts of you that aren’t entirely you, regardless of how much you fight to define yourself as your own person. It’s a feeling that Shinya understands well, but that does nothing to quell the bittersweet feeling that begins to swell as he watches you now, those walls of yours nowhere to be found in favor of enjoying this moment while you have it.

Shiny shakes away that train of thought before it can sour the sight before him, and turns his focus back onto the pair before him just in time. Cupid’s the first to notice his presence, and the tiny transient freezes mid air when Shinya offers him a soft smile upon being spotted. You on the other hand don’t notice a thing, still blissfully unaware as you continue to shuffle around the kitchen belting out the lyrics lost in your own little world. That is until Cupid starts slapping at your hands to get your attention, using the spatula still in your hand to twist your position around; you follow along with the movement, chuckling thinking that he’s trying to dance along only to pause in place when you see Shinya leaning against the counter.

The scene is almost comical, eyes growing wide at being caught - clearly you didn’t think that you were being that loud. Shinya expects you to shy away and pretend that the last few moments hadn’t happened, and yet you continue to surprise him as that shock melts away to a cheesy grin, and your hands drop away from Cupid as you swivel to fully face him. Your singing starts up again, but this time these words are aimed directly at him, still grinning even as you bring up your spatula to act as a microphone and hold out a hand beckoning him to come and join.

That gets a laugh out of him, and though Shinya’s expression softens he doesn’t budge to join you just yet. It doesn’t deter you in the slightest however, instead only prompting you to close the distance as you start rounding around the counter still singing along with the love song as it crescendos into the chorus.

Shinya straightens up to meet you halfway, still smiling as you forgo the impromptu microphone and slink your arms across his shoulders. So close like this he can’t help but look into your face; your lidded eyes betray that you’re still fighting to stay awake so early in the day, and bits of hair fall over your eyes framing your face as you tilt your head ever so slightly beneath his gaze. One of Shinya’s hands tentatively rests on your lower back and the corners of your eyes crinkle as you smile between lyrics emphasizing those laugh lines he’s always had a fondness for.

By now the song in the background fades into background noise, and for a moment the only thing that he can hear is your voice, the only thing he can focus on is your face and the feel of your hands rubbing slow circles along the nape of his neck in the way that you know makes him melt. It’s taken Shinya a long time to come to terms with his version of love; and perhaps this moment is where he feels it the clearest, bodies pressed together silhouetted by small kitchen lights as you sway in eachothers arms.

Neither of you notice when the music fizzles out, finally succumbing to your perpetually low battery. Your singing dwindles into a low humming, the sound generating a pleasant buzz in your chest as you rest your head against Shinya’s shoulder, making up the tune as you go along. It’s perfect, and though Shinya’s touch on you is soft it does nothing to betray the safety you feel. It’s almost as though you could doze off like this, and there’s no denying that it’s a tempting prospect as you press your face a little closer into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes and breathing in the smell of vanilla and coffee beans. You can already feel yourself beginning to drift, content in your partner's arms…

Until the smoke alarm goes off.

“The eggs!”

And just like that the moment’s broken. Your arms slip from his shoulders and Shinya watches you make the mad dash back towards the stove. Cupid, bless his heart is right behind you, doing his best to waft away the smoke as you hastily yank the pan off of the hot surface, only just having the foresight to turn off the heat before you slam what’s left of breakfast (the charred remains of scrambled eggs, if he was to hazard a guess) into the nearby trash can with a defeated groan.