He can already feel the tension in his shoulders loosening at the prospect of a long and slow night dedicated to resting and pampering himself. And of course, he does the main thing that relaxes him the most—cooking and baking.

Yes, there's still a lot of work in the process of preparing and making food, but he finds a quiet tranquil in the precise measurements and temperatures of baking. Cooking makes him feel as if he's loosely painting on a canvas. Eitherway, the prep work helps erase the jitters from his muscles and everything he makes always ends up delicious.

Tonight, feeling rather festive and celebratory, nanami decides to make a strawberry shortcake. The light and delicate enough for his sugar averse palette, and enough sweetness to sate his partner's sugar addicted tongue. Everything went perfectly—the cake itself had a beautiful crumble, icing wonderfully light with that faint creamy sweetness, and the assortment of berries he mixed in with the strawberries were delightfully fresh. He places a little chocolate sign that he managed to scrounge together from gojo's sweets stash and... it was perfect.

Nanami should've known however that, if things were too perfect—it was inevitable for everything to come crashing down. Quite literally for his case. As he removed the perfect cake from its makeshift decorating stand, his hands—aching and exhausted from the week, had reached their limit. They trembled and jolted, the unsteady metal surface and motions causing his beautiful creation to topple and fall with a wet splat to the ground.

The world zeroed in at that singular moment in time, senses blocking out everything that wasn't the carefully crafted masterpiece laying on the ground. Shortcake bent in angles that it wasn't supposed to bend, exposing pale yellow crumb that was never supposed to be seen. Cut strawberries and fruit glistening red in the light of his kitchen, strewn and mixed about with the icing. Icing, thick and somehow light all at once, splattered across his shoes and floor.

Hysterically, he thought, it kind of reminds him of a dead body.

Cake as flesh and muscle, exposed to the world. Clumps of icing and berries acting like blood and gore strewn about the floor. In certain areas, where cake and icing peeled away from each other, it reminded him of open wounds—icing serving as both blood and flayed skin.

He worked so hard on it. And there it was. On the floor. So close to the counter and the plate that it was supposed to be on. And yet. It wasn't.

Each berry cut meticulously, to both preserve and bring out its beauty. Icing spread and piped in all manner of different decorations whilst also being wonderful on its own. Beautifully moist and fluffy shortcake, with the perfect texture.

Nothing else mattered in this moment but his wrecked cake.

He hadn't registered the door open, the tired yet cheery greeting of his husband, and the rushed steps of gojos shoes until he was pulled into his chest. And as he was pressed close to his husbands body, he realized that he'd also been crying. "Oh shit, shit, shit—Kento, baby, talk to me. What happened?"

Nanami opened his mouth to speak, only to let out a pathetic little croak. It seems that he also lost track of how long he's been there. Staring at his ruined cake. "Okay, okay," Gojo pulls him away to look into his eyes. Somehow the sight of them makes him sob. For real this time. If earlier, he only had streams of tears falling into his eyes, now nanami crumpled in gojos arms with great gasping sobs, shuddering on each breath. "Oh, fuck—Kento, lovely, talk to me! What happened?! Tell me, please."

At this, the man feels a shame so strong he feels its heat from his ears down to his shoulders. How ridiculous was it—him turning into a weeping mess over a bit of cake? But... it was still his cake. A cake that he put all of the stress and frustration and exhaustion of the week into. A cake that he made to celebrate making it through the week. A cake he made full of love for the two of them.

Gojo's questions were only met with more sobbing as Nanami quieted and hid his face in the crook of his neck. "Shit. Alright. Lemme get you situated on a couch, okay Ken? Your knees must be real tired, yeah?" "But... the cake." Finally, a word from his distraught love. "Yeah? What about the cake, love?" Nanami buried himself harder into his neck, before abruptly pulling away—rubbing a hand down his blotchy, red, tear and snot streaked face. "I— It's just— It's utterly ridiculous and pointless, Satoru. It's nothing."

"What? What is? It can't not be important if you've been sitting here crying all evening? What is it, Kento?" "It's cake. I've just—I've been crying over ruined cake, Satoru. It's utterly childish and ridiculous of me to, so excuse me while I—" "Shhh, none of that." Kento finds himself tackled into his husband's arms, the sheer love and care behind it jostling the cold mask that was settling back into his skin.

Satoru rocks the two of them in place on their floor, a hand rubbing Kento's back and holding him close. He melts into his husband's arms as he did before, a couple more hiccuping breaths escaping his lips. It doesn't matter how long they stay like that, because in Satoru's arms, everything is perfect.

"The cake... it was for us. I, I worked so much on it, so hard on it that—when it fell... I suppose thats when the rest of the week caught up to me." Satoru hummed, Kento feeling that rumble into his chest. "It's ridiculous, isn't it? Its just cake, I might as well be crying over spilled milk but... I made it a strawberry shortcake, because its the only cake we can both agree on. I added other, tarter berries both for myself and to bring out the sweetness of the strawberries. Fuck—I even cut a few of them into shapes and drew on the icing with cake... and now it's just..."

He trails off, no other words able to describe the heavy, hurting numbness in his chest. "I'm so exhausted, Satoru."

Gojo sidles them up to the counter, letting Nanami lean on them as he kissed away what little tears were left on Nanami's face. "I love you so much, Kento. You work so hard." He smiles at him, his expression so tender and Nanami feels something in his chest. Something good. Gojo glances at the fallen cake, and swipes a bit of berries and icing onto his finger. He puts it into his mouth before Nanami can stop him.

Bright and sweet flavors burst onto his tongue, strawberries and cream being the perfect pairing. "Gojo! That's been on the floor! Its dirty, you could get sick!" He laughs him off, putting a stop to his protests with a kiss. "I'll be fine, Ken! Besides, I can just freshen myself up with a bit of RCT if that ever happens!" This time, he kisses him longer, deeper. He hopes it conveys how much he loves and adores this wonderful man. "You worked so hard, and so much. It's not for nothing. The cake is delicious, Ken. We can still eat it."

"Okay... okay. I suppose we can scrape off the parts that touched the floor. There's a bit of extra icing and berries left, I was meaning to make a bit of syrup if it wasn't sweet enough for you. We... We can save this, we can salvage this." A smile graces Kento's beautiful face. "Thank you, Satoru."

He nods in acknowledgement. "Well, I was actually thinking that we just turn the floor into a plate—heck, the whole world must be a giant plate for animals! Might as well see what the buzz is about, ya know?" And finally, a laugh. "Absolutely not, Satoru!"