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“Coffee?”
Tatsuya responded by waving his arm over the bedcovers, his head still under the pillow as he desperately tried to cling on to some shreds of blissful sleep. He heard liquid pouring and the ceramic click of the mug on the bedside table, then felt a weight pressing down on the mattress by his knees. To his displeasure he was starting to wake up, but at least it was gentle, with the aroma of coffee somehow wisping its way to him through the layers of pillow and covers. The mattress depressed somewhat as the weight shifted and he sensed warmth through the thin sheets.
“Would a lie-in kill you?” he murmured.
“This is a lie-in, isn’t it?” Taiga replied gently, “Look, I’m bringing breakfast to you and everything.”
“Ha ha.” Tatsuya reached out for his phone on the table, then, failing to locate it, propped himself up enough to check the clock. “You call 9am a late morning?”
“You got eight hours. Anyway, look, you’re up.”
From where Tatsuya was gathering himself enough to sit up and reach for the cup Taiga looked so awake and crisp, but after rubbing his eyes and a clarifying waft of steam from the coffee waking him up a tad, he looked again. Taiga just seemed his usual self. Not particularly bright-and-bushy-tailed; just relaxed.
“Morning.”
Taiga leaned in and kissed him over the steam, his mouth already tasting like the coffee he was about to drink. When he pulled back he was wearing the smallest smile. “Mornin’, Tatsuya.”
Something felt significant about that expression and suddenly, Tatsuya felt a mild pang of guilt for cramming so much sourness in that morning before even greeting him nicely. He wondered if he seriously thought Tatsuya was mad at him when he did that. He dwelled on it lightly as he sipped the coffee and Taiga watched him wake up bit by bit.
Not that it was particularly new to him, but. Tatsuya passingly thought about the bed that he was in. The new mattress they’d picked out together. Sleeping in Taiga’s apartment felt natural. It was their apartment now, but in his head he still referred to it as that. Seeing his own name on the lease still didn’t feel quite real. He’d stayed up past midnight calling with Shuu, who was back in the States with his family, trying to get the timezones to line up; Taiga had bowed out of a call with Alex maybe ten minutes in, already yawning for an early night. And that was their normal Friday night nowadays. His head ached for more sleep, the most mildly it had in months.
Months.
“No, really,” Tatsuya said after a moment, “Why’d you wake me up?”
“Nothin’ major,” Taiga instantly seemed warmer, more tender, fiddling with the ring on the chain around his neck in his telltale fashion. Tease.
“C’mon,” Tatsuya set down the cup and draped himself forward languidly, reaching to grasp at the fabric of Taiga’s shirt. It seemed to distract him from the ring and he carefully held Tatsuya’s hand instead, slipping his fingers in between his.
“It’s mushy, okay?” Taiga said, finally meeting his eyes.
“Hah. Alright, I’m prepared,” Tatsuya smiled.
Because Taiga knew it wasn’t that he didn’t like displays of emotion; he just felt like he needed to be in the right place or he’d end up deflecting them all over again. And that was something he was working on.
“Well,” Taiga glanced at the wall quickly like he’d pinned a script there, then looked back at him, “We have an anniversary today.”
“An… anniversary,” Tatsuya said. Taiga nodded.
“The anniversary of you coming here to stay.”
“And not leaving,” Tatsuya smirked despite himself, looking down into the sheets with instant regret for taking the edge off such a sweet sentiment, but Taiga was grinning, he could see from the corner of his eye.
“Yeah, that’s right,” he breathed, “So, um. Happy anniversary.”
He glanced up, half-expecting to see some kind of card or offering along with those words. But Taiga simply sat smiling, holding his hand, with the happiest look on his face.
Tatsuya wasn’t quite sure what to think. One year anniversary. That meant something, for sure.
A year ago today-- no, the day before yesterday, he was atop a cliff-face somewhere outside Akita thinking about killing himself. So really, it was the anniversary of Taiga bodily wrestling him away from becoming burger meat.
Okay.
He could see why Taiga wanted to celebrate it. It wasn’t as though they avoided speaking about that kind of thing.
Like, for example.
Taiga talked about getting help. Mentioned therapy.
And, also.
They had worked out the logistics of Nishi-Nippori, and Setagaya, and his old shitty one-room apartment. And more.
Besides, it wouldn’t do any good to not talk about what had happened.
Taiga had listened to him ramble both sober and drunk about all sorts of things.
Taiga had waited at the station for him when he’d met Atsushi again for the first time since he had remembered everything. Not as backup, not really. But just in case, you know, in case Tatsuya found another cliff-face somewhere in Tokyo. Figuratively speaking.
A whole year.
Considering the Tatsuya of then and of now felt very much like falling back into the no-man’s land of missing memories. A missing stair on his journey through a life that didn’t quite make sense.
He blinked, sensing Taiga squeeze his hand.
“I…” Tatsuya began.
“It’s okay, I-- uh, how to put it…” Taiga said hurriedly, “I didn’t think you’d want to celebrate, exactly. But it’s important to me, and… to us. So.” He put his other hand atop Tatsuya’s, like he was clinging on. “It’s been a year of waking up next to you.”
“Yeah,” he nodded as though to dispel the uncomfortable sensation of floating, “That’s right.”
“Tatsuya?”
“Yes?”
Taiga was looking at him keenly.
“I'm happy you're here."
Tatsuya grit his teeth for a moment to resist the urge to dash or to rebuff with a joke or to ignore or lie or simply avoid Taiga’s honest sentiment. It was like holding vodka in his mouth rather than shotting it, making him aware of every single scratch and cut he had. An icy burn.
Instead he forced himself to breathe.
“Say it again,” he whispered.
“Huh? I-” Taiga reddened, “I’m happy you’re here.”
Tatsuya looked up to make himself acknowledge it. Like staring into the sun, the burn merely shifted. “You mean it?”
“‘Course I do. Tatsuya, I’m a shitty liar and you know it.”
“I…” he stopped, then sighed in slow defeat. “I guess a year would be long enough to regret it by now.”
“Don’t say that,” Taiga said, and pulled him gruffly into a hug.
“Taiga,” he found himself curling his fingers into the back of his t-shirt.
“No more regrets, remember,” Taiga was murmuring into his shoulder, “I’m really glad you’re here with me, Tatsuya, you know I missed you even if I didn’t know it…”
“Alright,” Tatsuya found himself getting exhausted-- not of Taiga but the toll that going over everything took on him, that he felt embarrassed for allowing himself to succumb to weakness like that when Taiga was here in the flesh, telling him what he needed to hear -- and slid his hands up to hug him back properly, to breathe in his scent. But Taiga must have thought that he was gripping him to push him away, because he tugged back a little first, to Tatsuya’s surprise, and looked him in the eye.
“Tatsuya, I--”
“Yeah?”
“Tatsuya, I…”
Tatsuya’s heart leapt into his throat.
But as he held his breath and Taiga’s blush turned from cherry blossom to cherry jam he wondered if he’d misunderstood, or drawn too much attention to the bundle of words stuck in his mouth.
“I… you… um…”
Tatsuya gently nodded to encourage him, but Taiga seemed to give in to defeat and leaned in quickly to kiss him.
“I like you. Okay?” he said with hands firmly on his shoulders.
“I like you too,” Tatsuya found himself replying, and meaning it, like he’d always done.
Only, the events of the last year suddenly had a slight rose tint painted over them, and the future seemed uncertain. When he looked properly at Taiga he saw something there -- some sort of stability, nothing that he already knew.
It was, to him, an improvement from a bleak destiny set in stone.
“Here, your coffee,” Taiga was passing him his cup again, “Breakfast’s ready when you are.”
--
The events of that morning had stirred up his memories, something that Tatsuya was quite honestly tired of by now. Every single day he remembered something new that had been swallowed up by that memory-alterating procedure back then. The first few days after he’d remembered Taiga had been hell, both of them mentally exhausted from the endless barrage of memories, down for the count when it came to even thinking about talking about it all, like a constant hangover. They thinned out slowly like paint; fewer hard-hitting emotional realisations and more snapshots and random facts, like the colour of the bedroom walls in Yosen’s dorms, or a salad dressing recipe he loved in high school. Still, a blurt out of the inner voice, an intrusive thought, except about something that had actually happened.
Today the recollection wasn’t something he had suppressed but something that had passed him by at the time. Hadn’t Taiga already said it to him? Said ‘I love you’? Back on the roadside near Akita?
He couldn’t remember properly through the haze he’d been working through at the time, but it did remind him of Aomine and Kise’s wedding, only a week ago but already feeling like an idyllic holiday from months gone by in that tropical paradise. He supposed that it had had the effect that Kise wanted.
Taiga had asked him to dance, although his bright red cheeks and earnest eyes seemed to ask something much sappier for the occasion. It was adorable. A thrill, honestly, to be asked to dance.
“Thought you’d never ask,” Tatsuya had replied with an unrestrained smile at the time, so light was his heart with carefree joy, and it seemed to send ripples through the Generation of Miracles gathered nearby. Even Atsushi clapped for them. Because Akashi had told him to, but still.
Thinking of Atsushi. Taiga had thought the two of them wouldn’t get along again, somehow. That much was apparent when he’d stood slack-jawed and shifted cartoonline from shock to momentary defensive anger to pure confusion as Tatsuya and Atsushi met him at the station at the exact same moment. Tatsuya had told him he’d be on his way back from brunch with Murasakibara, but what he was seeing was the other man still there, for some reason.
“Really? Haha, I mean, I guess so,” Tatsuya had smiled up at Atsushi who stood by him wrapped up in his winter coat, despite it just hitting fall, their shoulders bare centimetres apart, “But I never had any problem with Atsushi himself. He was just collateral damage.”
“Kagami’s fault,” Atsushi supplied helpfully between bites of a steaming custard taiyaki. Taiga’s eyebrow twitched.
“Hey now, Atsushi, we’ve been through this.”
“You’re not wrong, but…” Taiga frowned, “Somethin’ about it just doesn’t add up…”
“It doesn’t?”
There was a look of resolute acceptance on Taiga’s face as he stood back and took in the picture of the two together complementing one another so naturally; Tatsuya in his long coat and fluffy hair, Atsushi carrying a veritable shoal of taiyaki in a plastic bag but no hat or gloves to keep him from the cold. Almost as though Tatsuya had been psychically reminded he nudged Atsushi and passed him a scarf he’d had tucked in his pocket.
The Double Aces were back together…
Taiga honestly didn’t believe it would happen after the month it took for Tatsuya to fully move out of Nishi-Nippori. Not a day went by without Tatsuya clashing with Atsushi either on his way in or out of the café, or on his way out of his box apartment. They’d been barely civil, cordial at a push.
But this-- was the first time they’d met since not only Tatsuya, but Atsushi, too, had moved out of the district. Perhaps he’d been meaning to all this time. Word was that the move was career-related. In a gentle twist of irony it seemed as though they had both left behind some distasteful memories in the neighbourhood and had come out of it refreshed.
“Kagami’s just jealous,” Atsushi had announced between bites of taiyaki, “That we still get on so well.”
“Is that true?” Tatsuya looked at him with piqued interest.
“Why would I be…?” Taiga sweated.
“Kidding. Juuuust kidding.” Atsushi drawled and popped an entire taiyaki in his mouth like a herring, head tilted back. The sight clearly made Taiga’s skin crawl.
“Ah, by the way, since we’re at the station -- where is it you live now, Atsushi? Can you get home from here?”
“Yeah, easy. Nakano Ward. Close to work.”
“Nakano? That’s not too far, hmm,” Tatsuya nodded, “We should do this again. Oh, come to ours for dinner sometime.”
“Okaaay.”
Taiga couldn’t help a double-take. “You’re inviting him over?”
“That’s okay, isn’t it, Taiga?”
“I-- Well, ‘course, you live there too, but…”
“Kagami knows his cooking won’t be good enough for me.” Atsushi said airily as though the named party wasn’t currently standing in front of him. The remark worked.
“No way! Fine! Come over! Any time!”
Just like that.
In drips and drops, Tatsuya saw time moving forwards for once. There wasn’t a precursor - a single lick of colour to the image unfolding.
“Then, shall we make a plan?”
–
“What’s bothering you?”
Taiga twitched, clearly still unused to Tatsuya’s directness in their home life. He tried to play it off as having cramp in his thigh, his back to Tatsuya as he sat on the edge of the bed and bounced his knee. His anxious energy had filled the room since the moment he changed into his PJ pants.
“Nothing…”
Clearly neither of them wanted to go to bed with an argument unresolved. Even if the argument hadn’t been had yet, hanging in the air like humidity that needed a storm to break it; even if they’d done it before. Tatsuya didn’t want that to be the way things continued to be.
However, he could see the issue plain as day.
“Atsushi, right.”
“I–! I don’t, well… about that…” Taiga seemed to school his frown into a pout, then looked sheepishly over his shoulder at him. Tatsuya’s heart softened, then his temper flared, all in one flash. He wasn’t being cute. He wasn’t trying to be, Tatsuya reminded himself. Tatsuya needed to sink his teeth into the topic before it slipped away. “Do we have to have him over?”
This. He wished for a little more decisiveness. But– he counted to three, waiting for some wisdom to envelop his resentment. And he relaxed his legs and closed his book. It might not have been enough, though.
“You seemed fine to invite him when your pride was at stake.”
“Don’t say it like that,” Taiga frowned.
“Are you just bothered by him, then?”
“Yes! Obviously!” Taiga instantly looked guilty as he twisted to face Tatsuya, but he set his jaw. “He just, he rubs me up the wrong way. Even now that basketball’s out the picture. No matter how you slice it, his personality’s terrible. Fine if it’s me, but he treats you like shit, Tatsuya. Even back when…”
‘Back when’ were fighting words in this household. Tatsuya stared at him. Taiga looked uncomfortable, but held his gaze, knelt on the bed.
“Go on.” His tone was an icicle.
“Back when, when you two were– I know I was okay with you and him getting together, but I don’t want to be there with him. And in our place– feels strange.”
“‘Strange’.”
“Yeah.”
Not good enough. “I want to have people over, Taiga.”
Taiga’s anger seemed to smoulder, dampened only by guilt. After all, Kuroko was a regular visitor, and Hide had been over multiple times, even once with his screaming kid. Tatsuya didn’t have a Kuroko or a Hide. Or perhaps he simply didn’t want his coworkers, old flings, or dad to see where he shed his mask every night.
“You can! It’s your home! Ain’t saying you can’t!”
“Then, I want Atsushi to come for dinner. We had a nice brunch, good conversation. It wasn’t like old times, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
‘Old times’ - another jab. Taiga wrinkled his nose.
“Look, I’m not accusing you of anything.”
“Then stop making excuses and tell me what’s going on here. Or at least compromise.”
“Wh– what’s a compromise here?”
“You tell me,” Tatsuya snapped. “You’re being– I feel like– I feel…” God, articulating it was difficult. ‘I feel’ statements? He felt like shit. He felt like yelling at Taiga that he was being stubborn and short-sighted and childish and that he wanted not to feel so fucking lonely for once. But, damnit, if Taiga was all of that for not finding the words, then what was he? Clenching his fist on his knee, he swallowed down the ire.
Warmth smothered his knuckles. Taiga had knelt across the duvet and closed his large hand over his.
Big risk, Tatsuya thought. Taiga’s voice was forced.
“Okay. Listen. You two together makes me worry.”
“Worry?” Tatsuya couldn’t help the horrified tone of his voice. But Taiga held up his palm to stop him.
“Because,” he continued. “You two are… damn, what was it? Double Ace.”
Hearing that phrase come out in Japanese in the middle of their English conversation suddenly contorted his mental state, a bizarre hook and twist into his past. He remembered to close his mouth after an out-of-body moment. “Taiga, what.”
“I’m not saying you would! Probably not!” Taiga squeezed his hand, and let go just as quickly. “But whatever you saw in that guy– I have no idea, but, whatever it was, maybe here, you’d see it again, and if I had to watch you go through that at our own dinner table, and if he did have any ideas–”
“No. No, no.” Tatsuya didn’t realise he’d let out a laugh until Taiga looked at him like a kicked puppy, the concern crumpling that strong face, and he quickly stopped. “Taiga. Taiga, he’s so bad for me.”
“So’s junk food but we still get Maji on Fridays,” Taiga muttered.
Tatsuya was firm. “No. I’m not being a babysitter again. Even if I’m weak to a pout.”
“When I saw you guys the other day, I just felt–” Ah, Tatsuya thought, there it is. ‘I feel’. “--I felt scared. ‘Cause you two were acting like nothing had ever happened. Like he’d come to get you at streetball.”
Silence fell.
What was he meant to say? That wasn’t the case at all. Nothing was the same. Everything in the world had happened. He should have known that. Atsushi had rejected him pretty cleanly anyway.
But Taiga was scared, and rambling, and fear didn’t care what you knew or not.
“And when you think about those times, you kind of – clock out for a while. And when you come back, you’re not right for hours.”
“I know that,” Tatsuya didn’t want to think about it. Taiga wasn’t worse than he was, but he was always uncharacteristically quiet when he came back. In a blink he tried to imagine Taiga’s fear; Atsushi breaking something that was so close to repair, someone who might not come back this time. He laid a hand on Taiga’s thigh. The skin was warm as always just below the hem of his shorts. “I know. Okay.”
When Taiga didn’t reply, starting to bounce his knee again, Tatsuya stroked down to the kneecap, then down his ticklish inner ankle until he met his eyes, almost a glare if it wasn’t for how miserably embarrassed he looked.
“I know you’re scared. But I chose you.”
“It’s not like I think–” The sentence seemed to die in his mouth with Tatsuya’s shifting touch on his other thigh, now, hands pushing them apart. “H-Hey.”
“Because I like you, Taiga. Because you’re good. You know that or I wouldn’t be trying to get you on my side in all this. I’m asking because I want this and I want you to be there. Need you there.”
‘This’ and ‘there’ all about Atsushi, but the phrasing was enough to send a flush of heat through Taiga’s face that Tatsuya could feel just from the slight distance he was closing, stroking his hip.
“Tatsuya,” he grabbed his wrists, but Tatsuya was already straddling his thigh, tilting to nose at his neck. He could practically hear the cogs whirr in his brain of his miscalculation. Too late, your fault for being a big handsome sweetheart. God, he wished he could say things directly, but it wouldn’t ever sound honest coming out of his mouth. “Tatsuya, we should talk properly–”
“Just did,” he kissed the side of his neck, getting a sigh out of him. Was he really that scared? Was this helping? To check, he flexed his fingers in Taiga’s grip; as soon as he was released, he was running his hands down Taiga’s chest, feeling his stomach, his waist, the elastic waistband of his shorts. Taiga’s hand met his chest like a stop without any heart behind it.
“Not when you’re, when we’re feeling like this.”
He arched his back so that hand slid down his ribs, then changed tack, leaning down onto his elbows on the bedspread and pulling down Taiga’s waistband to reveal him in a flash. “It’ll help. Get it out our systems.”
“Tatsuya–!” Alarm spiked his voice as Tatsuya thumbed at his cock; when he felt his hand lift from his chest, he thought it might find his hair, pull him off, but he simply cupped his cheek, thumbing at his cheekbone urgently. It felt good. He opened his mouth in reaction. “T-Tatsuya, I swear to God–”
He didn’t say anything then, just a hum as he ran his tongue down his shaft, eyes shut to burrow into his lover’s skin. It didn’t matter if he thought he was overwhelming, or being cheap or manipulating about it. Taiga should have known how dangerous it was to just go and imply he was worried someone was going to steal him away.
Leave you, Taiga? Not any more.
“Still scared?” he only felt right to ask after warming him up fully with his mouth, over and over, massaging the head of his cock with the slick, after Taiga had dissolved into panting and curved over him, still frantically stroking his cheek like it’d keep him out of mischief anywhere else on his body. Peering up, he noticed he’d started to sweat through his shirt. You’re amazing, Taiga.
“N-No– mmmngh.”
Getting those sounds out of him was too good. Tatsuya sucked at the head like a lollipop again just to hear it once more. He couldn’t resist; he rubbed his length, hard in mere moments, thickening and thickening until he caved to take him in his mouth. Already burning hot, already pulsing… he sucked, feeling Taiga’s palm begin to sweat as he caressed his cheek.
“Good?”
Taiga sighed. “‘Course.”
“So say yes,” he murmured.
It was like rousing him from a trance. “Wh-what? Huh? Oh my god. We can’t–” Taiga moaned, his hand juddering into nails raking Tatsuya’s scalp, a deep thrill rippling through him. “I don’t want to think about him while you– fuck. Fuck, fuck, Tatsuya…!”
Tatsuya let his long, hard suck end in the pop of his cock pulling out of his mouth, and flicked his tongue on the tip. “Please?” He rubbed at the base, gazing up at Taiga, for as long as he’d need to until he looked back at him from having screwed his eyes shut. “Please, Taiga, just one evening. He’ll leave before you have to sleep. Please.”
A strange sound pulled out of him between gritted teeth. But the tension making Taiga’s thigh start to bounce again, the palpable throb of his huge cock against his cheek, made him wonder if there was something beyond just the anticipation. He looked carefully, searching for his eyes, and found him looking right back at him under the shadow of his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, the crease of those stormy eyebrows in the dark of the bedroom.
“Please, Taiga? Please?”
He huffed, so hard and sharp Tatsuya felt the breath on his hairline.
“You’re too much…”
Got you. He smiled gently. This was more fun than he’d expected, even with his favourite toy already in hand.
“Nothing you can’t handle.”
“Mmmgh.” Taiga’s hand found his hair, and Tatsuya’s heart leapt in his chest as his grip tightened and pulled, and he didn’t have much else to say with his mouth full and satisfied.
–
In a miracle moment, right up against the deadline for food shopping, a not unwelcome memory came back to him. Cream stew.
Taiga had frowned at its name, description, and alternate name (“Huh? 'White stew' sounds worse!”), but as soon as the reason for cooking it came up he took the list with him to the store. It wasn’t a challenge, and nor was it intended to be.
Atsushi sitting in the apartment, however, was worlds away from the light-hearted comfort Tatsuya had felt the last time they’d met up for snacks and a stroll. He dwarfed the narrow end of the table with his wide elbows, where Tatsuya usually sat, grazing slice by slice on the baguette laid out in-between the three set places. Those things were normal for Atsushi, though. It may have simply been, Tatsuya thought, the presence of another person in his – in Taiga’s – in their– apartment. He still wasn’t used to it.
“Oi! The bread’s not for now!” Taiga suddenly brandished a ladle over the kitchen island.
“It’s out on the table, though.”
“You’re gonna fill up before the meal…”
Atsushi reluctantly pulled the bread from his mouth. It might have looked graceless, Tatsuya thought, but that was a massive compromise on Atsushi’s part, Atsushi who physically could never fill up before a good meal. Taiga wrinkled his nose and returned to the stove. As soon as his back was turned, Atsushi continued to munch. Ah. Well then.
Now, if he tried to play the hosting game, he could look into his past of hosting. But that involved digging around there, and he had– very little experience. No more than Taiga, it seemed, who grew up solitary, despite one food prep session being enough to feed a whole squad of teenage athletes. He recalled– purposefully, like squeezing the drops from a dry lemon – dinners with the team dragged into the second-year dorms. But a crisp packet opened and flat on the ground didn't really count, did it?
He realised he felt anxious.
Tatsuya had noticed when the flood burst the banks, those memories first coming thick and fast, but he wasn't sure when it had thinned to a trickle. Or when he started looking for things intentionally. Atsushi sitting so heavily on the chair that it creaked shouldn't have made him feel nostalgic, particularly as Taiga snapped at him almost immediately for it.
"Whaaat, like it's not good enough quality for you to sit here?"
"The difference between us is enough to destroy the frame! Hey, that bread's for the meal, I said, cut that out!"
A familiar mystery munching sound coated his voice like sticky crumbs. "Muro-chin, tell'im."
He looked at him–
–breathless, so dear and petulant yet yielding; he'd arch his back, hips keening, even if he moaned to slow down, that Muro-chin was a pervert, that Muro-chin didn't need to see his face, that he wasn't going to say if it felt good because he should know, Muro-chin, Muro-chiiin–
–He was in their apartment, not his school dorm room.
How much time had passed? There was just as much bread in the basket as before. Scrambling to save the moment, he took a breath and looked at Atsushi's nose instead of those gooey eyes, bringing himself back into his body. Wrangling this man was second nature. He just needed to act.
"If you're happy having cream stew with no bread, that's okay, Atsushi."
Classic kill 'em with kindness. Atsushi glowered like a kicked cat and began plucking the inner crumb, rolling it into pellets of tack between finger and thumb that he popped into his mouth one by one. Taiga looked at him with a mix of triumph and disgust; Tatsuya let it all run off him as he delivered salad to the table.
Years ago – it had been a good few now, no? – he had helped Taiga cook for a birthday. Kuroko’s birthday. He remembered the motions before but now, the numbness worn off, the events came back. They’d fought and not made up, but just like always back then, he kept a thick veneer of everything’s fine, because if he couldn’t function when things weren’t fine then he’d never get out of fucking bed. So he recalled feeling like he’d enjoyed it. Deep down, he must have enjoyed it quite genuinely then.
That time, he had teamed up to cook with Taiga for the first time since returning to Japan, although he didn’t see it in such a sportslike way after their match. Taiga was good at hot, himself at cold, fried versus fresh salads, his katsu to his practiced California roll as a party trick. As teens it had been satisfying to eat a feast that they’d prepared themselves. It was more impressive to feed a party, but he hadn’t felt like congratulating himself or his cooking partner at the time.
His fingers itched. The thought of heading outside for a smoke and walk around the block was an oasis he wouldn’t reach; he didn’t want the other two to think they had stressed him out. Atsushi didn’t like the scent of cigarette smoke. But maybe they wouldn’t mind. He regretted not offering to prepare something as well, he could have made the salad. But part of him felt like he needed to– stay here with Atsushi so that these two wouldn’t butt heads. It wasn’t exactly like he was contributing to the conversation, though. Was this how hosting worked? He felt dire.
“Muro-chin.”
“Yes?” he snapped out of his reverie, a little too alarmed. But Atsushi just looked at him as aloof as always, then lifted a plastic bag carrying a box onto the dinner table.
“I forgot. This needs to be in the fridge.”
“O-oh. Sure, let me. What is it?”
“Dessert,” Atsushi answered simply, coming to a natural stop with the bread as Taiga laid down the salad tongs, salt, pepper. Tatsuya felt himself freeze halfway through the kitchen.
“Oh my god. I forgot about dessert.”
“We didn’t decide on anything,” Taiga shrugged, carrying the plates past him to the table.
You don’t understand, Tatsuya wanted to argue, but he stood locked into place. I forgot sweets. For Atsushi. Who had his eyes wholly on the hot dish being lowered in front of him.
“Mom always says it’s polite to bring something when you’re invited for a meal, so.”
Mom. Atsushi’s mom. He’d never met her but he’d seen photos, which remained untouched in his memory, despite the edges being rounded off their relationship when it happened. Remembering her was like looking for lost goggles at the bottom of a swimming pool.
“Is that right? I guess that’s true.” he heard himself try to laugh. It fell flat as he saw Taiga and Atsushi both watching him from the dinner table. Since everything was served, steaming, already… he quickly slid the box into the fridge and sat down, purposefully careful as he pulled in his chair, then, a little impulsively, reached out to touch Taiga’s hand across the table.
When I said I needed you here, you better not have thought I was being dramatic, he thought.
What came out of his mouth instead was, “Thanks for cooking, Taiga.” Beside him, Atsushi nodded, spoon in hand, hopefully immune to the heavy look going on between the boyfriends in front of him.
“Thank you for the foooo-ooood.”
Taiga’s mouth jutted into a grumpy pout of acknowledgement (god damn it, Taiga), then he grabbed his cutlery. “Yeah. W-Wait. There’s barely any bread left!”
“I left shome.” Atsushi pointed out. Taiga recoiled slightly and pulled the bread-basket along to protect it from any speaking-with-mouth-full spittle.
“It’s already pretty carb-heavy with the potatoes, I think.” Tatsuya added.
“It’s about the principle, you know, of the dish,” Taiga muttered, tearing a slice in half, and added “Not that I’ve ever tried it…”
Tatsuya’s eyes flashed. Somehow, revealing that fact to Atsushi made him panic further, like he was trying too hard. Even though he always tried too hard for him. But, fuck, how hard did he have to try to get him to forgive him?
Was that all this was? Begging for forgiveness? Atsushi resenting him, secretly, beneath the soft and baby-sweet breath and the casualness with which he’d agreed to come by today? Was it a big deal? Was that really what he was afraid of?
“Muro-chin.”
He jolted back to the present moment. Counted the bread slices. Same amount of bread (one slice, left by Taiga). One of the halves in Taiga’s hands gone. Actively chewing. He looked at Atsushi, who just motioned, mouth full, and then swallowed.
“Pass the salad.”
“You don’t need to bother him for that if you can reach,” Taiga answered before the words processed in Tatsuya’s mind as holding absolutely zero secret passive-aggressive meaning, and lifted the bowl across to him. “And would it kill you to say ‘please’?”
“Not good manners to reach even if I can. I wasn’t raised in a barn.” Scrape, scrape of the wooden salad spoon against the whittled bowl.
“The lettuce in the stew–?!”
“It’s good. I want crunch.”
“Seriously? I gave you a side-plate for it, look! Right there!”
“You should try it, Kagami. Maybe you’d calm down if you had creamy crunch.”
As they bickered one-sidedly over the ethics of putting salad in béchamel sauce, Tatsuya’s fizzy insides flattened, settled, rested. Listening to them, letting their disagreement pan out into some shared understanding of cooking and flavour, devoid of any underlying pointedness, he finally noticed how empty his stomach was. This kind of situation didn’t exactly make him hungry, but he couldn’t leave his bowl untouched, either.
It was good.
He remembered.
He’d eaten this before, a little spoonful from Atsushi’s plate in the school cafeteria, once.
It had been pasty and thick, glue-like, with a thin congealed skin peeling back in places to reveal lava-hot liquid running down around the broccoli and cubed carrot. They had been sitting separately at first, Atsushi with his class, Tatsuya with a classmate from the school council, and when each of their respective friends peeled off for their own clubs and get-togethers, they’d glanced at one another across the aisle. Tatsuya had moved to sit at Atsushi’s table. Before long, Liu had spotted them too; then Fukui, then Okamura (brief as it was; he didn’t want to eat, in case his breath smelled before he gave his love letter to his crush before lunchbreak ended). Liu was lingering on a sandwich and chatting. Fukui hadn’t finished his serving of cream stew, something about dairy being bad for testosterone, and slid it across to Atsushi. Atsushi’s smile was so genuine that he’d wanted to tap into, just a little, whatever was making him so happy. That, and he’d never tried it before.
This was nothing like that, and yet, he remembered.
A lump in his throat made it hard to swallow, but he made it two-thirds through his bowl before Taiga subtly started rearranging the table, and finally, his eyebrows no longer knit and dark, looked at Atsushi.
“Is it a coffee-with kinda cake? Or tea?”
Atsushi wiped the last of his bread crust around the rim of his bowl, finished chewing, then nodded.
“Tea, definitely.”
–
“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you to the bus stop?”
“Mmm, I’m okay.” Atsushi unfolded a pair of headphones and tucked them snugly over his scarf. The sight had Tatsuya’s heart squeeze. Small things; he didn’t think there was anything bad about holding onto that feeling, though. It was chilly in the apartment lobby; just the waft of the outside air through the gap between the glass doors caught him like a gale and sent a shiver through him. He wrapped his arms around himself then forced himself to uncurl, look more relaxed.
“All right. Thanks for coming over, Atsushi. I really appreciate it.”
Adjusting his hat and patting his pockets for his music player, at first Tatsuya thought he was just taking his sweet time getting locked and loaded for the walk. It would be just long enough to be boring, after all. But after a moment, he realised that Atsushi was nodding.
“Thanks for the yummy dinner.”
Seeing him turn and open the door, Tatsuya felt himself lunge to leave the lobby. To want to walk him to the bus stop after all. To know that he meant it. To know he really, really, had wanted to be there with the both of them. He called out.
“Come over again?”
Atsushi paused in the doorway, that usual slow reaction time. He looked at him then nodded again, gentle eyes under the roll of his knit hat.
“Okay.”
“...! Great!”
He waved.
“Bye-eee.”
“Bye!”
“You didn’t need me for that,” Taiga scoffed when he’d come back to the ground floor stairwell, still feeling cold.
“He said dinner was good.”
“Well, that much was obvious,” He went quiet, feeling Tatsuya lean into him heavily, watching Atsushi walk down the end of the road and out of sight. After a moment he asked, quietly, in English, “You okay?”
Tatsuya fell quiet. His mind was quiet, too. As if the noise that had been in there all week was finally resting; not satiated, not gone, but hibernating. Bulbs under the soil for now. His hand lifted, automatically reaching for the ring on its chain around his neck, but it kept going, and he touched the side of Taiga’s face instead. It was warmer. It wasn’t just a reminder, when the real thing was right here.
“I’m okay.”
Taiga’s eyes softened, dark and encouraging. Relief melted the slight furrow of his brow. “Yeah?”
“Well, I’m cold. And hosting is tiring.”
After a few seconds, Taiga rubbed his forearm, then thought of a better solution and hit the button for the elevator. “He left the rest of the montblanc, by the way.”
“Great. That’s breakfast.”
He chuckled and wrapped an arm around Tatsuya's shoulder, squeezing him gently on the fine line between a bro hug and a lover's affection. That wasn't his fault. He was just built bulkier.
“Worked out fine, then.” As the numbers counted down on the elevator's display, Tatsuya felt Taiga gently lean his head onto his, as though exhausted, but more likely wanting his touch. It wasn't like them to sit apart at dinner, after all.
"Wasn't a dealbreaker?"
Taiga perked up as the number hit zero, and stroked his elbow, looking at him with genuine surprise so clear across his features that Tatsuya didn't even feel bad for asking. He just felt -- relief.
"Take a lot more than that, and you know it."
He thought about it as they stepped into the empty elevator.
"I do."
As the doors slid shut on the lobby, he pressed Taiga against the elevator wall and kissed him.