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Aizawa didn’t say it on the quiet Monday evening in October when Yagi pulled him away from the book he’d been reading, sock-footed and bleary eyed, to slow dance to an old song in the middle of the living room. There was food in their bellies and sleep on their minds, and Yagi was warm where he held him against his tattooed chest, singing the lyrics against the shell of his ear as they swayed in a circle together.He didn’t say it, but he thought it, gazing warmly at the other man in the buttery light from the tableside lamp while Mochi wound herself around their legs. Aizawa didn’t say it one morning in March when he was forced to close A LOGICAL ROSE early due to a nasty cold, spending the rest of the day being fussed over while cocooned in blankets on the couch. Yagi brewed him peppermint tea and prepared bowl after steaming bowl of miso soup before braiding Aizawa’s damp hair away from his fevered neck. There were kisses peppered to his hairline and fingers kneading the muscles of his calves. He didn’t say it, but he thought it as Yagi rubbed soothing circles on his back beneath his sweatshirt while they wasted the afternoon marathoning every single one of Aizawa’s favorite horror films together, much to Yagi’s disdain for jump scares. Aizawa didn’t say it during the annual trip to New York when he was introduced to David Shield for the first time as his boyfriend, the title hanging heavily in the air between them like the ball of emotion that built in his throat. It was spoken so casually, so informally, with Yagi’s hand curled around his own, that it made his fingers tremble in that sure grasp.He didn’t say it, but he thought it while watching Yagi exchange laughter with his long-time best friend across the restaurant table, his joy forming soft creases at the corners of his eyes that Aizawa later memorized with his lips.Aizawa didn’t say it at three o’clock in the morning spread out upon their bed with Yagi trailing open-mouthed kisses along the striking yellow sunflowers inked onto his side. Yagi’s hips rocked slowly, buried deep and familiar, and Aizawa tilted his head back with quiet groans and whimpers, overcome with the feeling that danced precariously on the tip of his tongue.He didn’t say it, but he thought it when Yagi smiled into their lazy kisses afterward, tucking Aizawa’s sweat-dampened locks behind one ear as he did so, the gesture that had sealed the deal for them so long ago.In the year since they’d become official, a thousand opportunities to say it had presented themselves on gilded platters, and yet Aizawa went and blurted it out in the dumbest way possible.It was on the bleariest of November mornings, with a sharp chill cutting through the gray skies, when his mouth decided that it was time. Aizawa perched himself on the stool by the old wooden table in his shop, dark-framed glasses settled on the bridge of his nose while he prepared a surprise birthday bouquet for delivery. Face half-buried in his favorite knitted maroon scarf, he visibly shivered as the shop door swung open with a chime, letting the afternoon air slice beneath the oversized sweater he borrowed from Yagi’s closet. He didn’t bother to look up at the approach of footsteps. He knew who it was even before a broad hand settled itself on the small of his back. A paper cup was placed on the table before him, scenting heavily of richly spiced chai from the tendrils of smoke coiling from the lid. No words were exchanged, and he tilted his cheek upward to accept the long, tender kiss placed there. A simple gesture. A common gesture. Nothing more than a favorite hot drink dropped off on a cold day without prompt. And then…“I love you.”Yagi visibly stilled, halfway turned to head toward the door, when the words tumbled unceremoniously from Aizawa’s lips. Aizawa went just as rigid on the stool, heartbeat spiking until it became a roar in his ears. They stared wide-eyed at each other for one, two, three excruciatingly long moments, before Yagi broke the silence.“Was that to me or the tea?”Aizawa swallowed. “…You.”Slowly, Yagi drew closer, crowding into Aizawa’s space until he was forced to lean back and nearly teeter off the stool. Aizawa felt swallowed up when those hands rose to cradle either side of his face, overwhelmed by the warmth of his skin and the look in his eyes. They gleamed with freshly built tears, the blue reminding Aizawa of a field of cornflowers in the summer. Yagi brushed their noses together, smiling, voice shaky. “About time.”Aizawa huffed out a laugh, his own throat clogged as he curled both hands around thin tattooed wrists. “Told you I suck at this.”Yagi shook his head and nuzzled their mouths together, almost a kiss, but not quite, and it had Aizawa whimpering and chasing his lips with a pout.“Can I hear it again?”Aizawa’s chest burst open. “I love you, sunflower.”A single tear rolled down Yagi’s cheek. “And I love you… so much.”Aizawa blinked. “Really?”“Oh my god… yes, you moron.”Yagi kissed him fiercely, his grin sharp against Aizawa’s chapped lips while his hands roamed low, skating down Aizawa’s sides before slipping beneath the curve of his ass to lift him effortlessly from the stool. Aizawa gasped, legs locking around narrow hips as he was carried toward the back room.“I have…” he panted, teeth scraping over Yagi’s lip. “…work to finish.”“Mhm, and you will finish it. Once I’m finished with you.”Aizawa was pressed immediately to the nearest wall of the storage room, out of sight from the doors and windows, the scent of dirt and petals and pollen heavy in the air. A breathy laugh bubbled up from his throat when Yagi’s hot tongue licked a stripe up the side of his neck.“Oh, and by the way,” Yagi smirked as he began to unclasp Aizawa’s pants. “Keep the glasses on.”“Sho… is that what I think it is?”Aizawa kept his head lowered, face buried against the backs of his folded hands. He couldn’t bear to look up, for his two closest friends to see the embarrassment flushed hot across his face in the dim restaurant lighting. It had been so impulsive of him. An illogical whim that he’d latched onto one evening after work while Yagi was busy at a late session, his heart taking control of his limbs and silencing the doubts that had plagued him for months.
He had every chance to turn back. When he strode through the glass doors, when he approached the counter and began to browse, when he’d ask to see specific ones that had captured his eye, when he’d requested a custom detail to be added before pulling his fucking wallet from the back of his pants.A dozen chances, and he’d taken none of them, sure of his decision. Sure of his love.He didn’t regret it for a second. “Yes, Hizashi, it’s a fucking engagement ring,” Aizawa muttered.“Well, fuck buddy, I’m real flattered and all—”Aizawa’s head snapped up. “Not for you.”Hizashi was grinning brightly against the rim of his glass, his long blonde hair thrown back in an effortless knot. He’d scored them the best booth in the place without need for a reservation, far from prying eyes and with their own private bar. Nemuri sat at Hizashi’s left, his arm draped over the back of the seat behind her, tapping along to the music blaring over the speakers. She had both hands held over her mouth as tears welled behind her startlingly blue eyes. She looked about ready to burst. To throw herself across the table at him.“Oh God, please don’t make a big deal out of this,” Aizawa groaned, rubbing at his closed eyes with a forefinger and thumb.“You’re getting married!” Nemuri practically shrieked, reaching across the table to grab one of his hands in both of hers. They were soft and scented of vanilla, her perfectly manicured nails filed into sharp points and painted as red as the bleeding hearts she always left trailing behind her.“Technically, not unless he says yes.”“You think he won’t?” Hizashi arched his brow.“I don’t… know. I don’t know.” Aizawa sighed and slumped back into his seat after releasing Nemuri’s hand with a squeeze. He pushed his fingers back through his hair. Hizashi chuckled. “Do you love the big idiot?”“Fuck… so much.”“Then you’re makin’ the right choice here, Sho. Trust the two people who know you better than most.”Nemuri nodded. “You’re definitely the happiest we’ve ever seen you. Yagi is, too.”Aizawa frowned at her, hope fluttering in his chest like there were butterflies trapped behind his ribcage. He ran his thumb over the ring box’s velvet lid. “Really?”“All we’re saying is that you’d better throw a hell of a party when you two get hitched,” Hizashi wriggled his glass of whiskey at him, the ice cubes clinking loudly. “I’ll cover the booze and music. But, if I’m not the best man, I’ll shave your fucking eyebrows off and dye your hair pink like I did to Tsunagu in college. Unless you’re okay with spending your wedding night riding the bologna pony while looking like a troll doll.”Nemuri choked on her sip of cocktail.Aizawa grimaced over her howling laughter. “You just had to phrase it like that.”Hizashi lounged back victoriously and raised his glass in a toast. “Just doin’ my job as your future best man, buddy.”Aizawa smiled, taking a quiet moment to open the velvet box in his hands. Inside, the ring glimmered in the restaurant lighting. Deep and solid gold with tungsten carbide plating on the very inside of the ring, black as the charcoal that stained Yagi’s fingertips, black as the tattoo inks he knew so well, the color broken only by the engraving Aizawa had made especially for him and him alone, carved so deeply that the gold bled through the letters. God… he hoped he could do this right.“So, how’re you planning on popping the question?” Nemuri asked, tongue fiddling with the end of a maraschino cherry stem from her drink. Hizashi eyed her mouth closely from his seat, and she knew it. “Big, extravagant gesture?”Aizawa shook his head and pocketed the ring. “No… it’ll be quiet. Private. Worthy of him.”“Saaaaaaaaap,” Hizashi mocked, though without malice.“But, please have a fuck ton of booze on hand should this blow up in my face.”“That’s what we’re here for, man.”Later that night, Aizawa returned home to a darkened apartment and the nearby sounds of Yagi’s soft snores. The television was on in the living room, running through the credits of an old western film. Quietly, he tossed his keys onto the counter and toed off his boots, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when at last he noticed those impossibly long legs dangling off the edge of the black leather couch.Yagi was passed out, arm thrown over his eyes with Mochi curled up into a ball on his chest. There was a cold mug of green tea on the table and the remote still in his right hand. Quietly, Aizawa rounded the couch and leaned down, fingers pushing wild blonde bangs aside just enough to settle a long kiss on the soft crease between his brows, heart surging, aching. The ring box felt as though it was burning a hole in his jacket pocket. Yagi stirred at the contact with a sleepy hum but didn’t open his eyes. Mochi, on the other hand, lifted her head and immediately started shrieking. “I’m home,” Aizawa whispered.“I couldn’t tell from the alarm going off,” Yagi responded, words slurred with exhaustion.Aizawa laughed and gathered Mochi in his arms, soothing her whiny mews with scratches below her chin and kisses peppered across her patchy fur. He carried her toward the kitchen, letting her skitter across the marble counter and circle the vase of fresh sunflowers while he filled her half-empty bowl with kibble, knowing it would be enough to silence her for the time being. “No, I didn’t bring home tuna,” he informed her quietly as she batted the little crunchy pieces with her paw, unimpressed. She made a sound resembling an ambulance, and Yagi chuckled softly from the couch.“So fucking needy,” Aizawa huffed, returning to his side.“Mm, reminds me of someone I know,” Yagi responded and opened his arms wide, beckoning Aizawa into the warmth of his embrace. He was shirtless, his tattoos stretching and rolling with the movement of his willowy frame. It was the safest place he knew. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aizawa feigned innocence while crawling on top of the older man, hungry for the heat of his skin. His lips found and nipped at every tattoo they could reach while he melted into Yagi’s chest, sinking into the dips and juts and angles of his body, fitting it perfectly with his own. Their legs wove and tangled, socked feet brushing, and Aizawa nestled his nose against the curve of Yagi’s throat. Sighing, he skimmed his fingertips along his boyfriend’s ribs, tracing the outline of his scar.Yagi flinched away with a yelp.Aizawa’s head snapped up. “Did I hurt you?”“No, your hand is fucking freezing.”Chest deflating with relief, Aizawa slumped against one tattooed shoulder and watched Yagi bring his hand to his mouth. Yagi exhaled hotly against his chill fingers, over and over while rubbing the warmth back into them, lips peppering kisses to his knuckles and palm as he did so. “I love you, Shouta, but sometimes it’s like getting a handjob from a corpse.”Aizawa snorted a laugh against his neck, warm hand returning to the rough tissue and caressing it softly, slowly. “I never did ask…” he murmured, tracing his thumb over the shattered, unreadable image among the scars. “What did you have tattooed here before?”Yagi was quiet for a moment before answering. “A black snake weaving through a cluster of peonies.”“No kidding,” Aizawa could make out bits of it, now. The gleaming black scales, a rosy pink petal or two. Like a broken stained-glass window. “I had it done while I was still apprenticing in Tokyo shortly after my mother died,” Yagi continued, his voice just above a whisper. “Peonies were her favorite. I wanted to hold a piece of her close after she passed.”“What was her name?”“Nana.”Aizawa swallowed at the ache in his boyfriend’s voice, hand flattening over the scar. Of all the places he had to be injured, of all the tattoos that were destroyed. “I’m sorry.”Yagi shook his head, face turning just enough to press his lips to Aizawa’s hairline. “She would have adored you, sweetheart.”“Yeah?”“Yeah.”Slowly, they settled into comfortable silence, too content with their current position to risk untangling and venturing across the room to their waiting bed. Yagi’s one arm was curled tightly around Aizawa’s shoulders, keeping him incredibly, possessively close while his lips fell to settle against dark hair. Aizawa could feel his boyfriend’s exhales slowing, could feel himself drifting off right along with him, lulled by rise and fall of his one lung working beneath his hand. Aizawa twined their fingers together on Yagi’s chest, thumb stroking across one finger in particular as he imagined it bound in gold. His eyes clenched shut. He brought that hand up and held it to his lips, heart swelling, throat clenching around his words. “Sunflower?”“Mm?”“I want to grow old with you.”He felt Yagi smile against his hairline, felt his grip around his shoulders tighten just a little more. “Afraid I might have beaten you there.”Aizawa smacked his arm, causing Yagi to laugh tiredly.“Mm… you will,” Yagi sighed, sleep heavy in his voice. “You’re stuck with me.”“Really?”“Really.”Aizawa fell asleep smiling.“Did you need help reaching that, sweetheart?”Stretched up on the tips of his toes with his fingers brushing the side of the cereal box mocking him at the edge of the highest shelf, Aizawa paused and cast his boyfriend a scathing look. Yagi was eyeing him smugly while leaned against their filled grocery cart, wild hair knotted back and hidden beneath one of Aizawa’s favorite knitted beanies, leaving only his bangs to dangle free. “Don’t even try it,” Aizawa warned. “I can do it myself.”Yagi leaned his cheek into the palm of his hand. “But you look so small and helpless like that.”“I’m six fucking feet tall.”“Pocket sized.”“I hate you.”“Uh huh.”Thinking quickly, Aizawa unwound the maroon scarf from his neck and flung the end of it upward, letting it strike the edge of the cereal box just enough to make it teeter off-balance and fall into his waiting hand. He brandished it proudly before tossing it into the cart with everything else.Yagi slow clapped. “I’m both sufficiently impressed and shockingly aroused.”“That’s a common feeling for most people around me.”Smiling, Yagi nuzzled a kiss against Aizawa’s unshaven cheek before pulling out their list. “Mm… think that’s everything? You grabbed an excessive number of strawberry marshmallows.”“They’re Hitoshi’s favorite,” Aizawa peered into the cart as they made for the checkout counter. There were enough sweets, meats, breads, and fresh seasonal vegetables to make it through an apocalypse. When he noticed Yagi’s warm smile, he deflected, hands slipping into his jean pockets. “Hey, that fucking kid eats me out of house and home every time he comes to visit. I’m just trying to make sure we’re sufficiently stocked.”“Of course,” Yagi nodded. “Bold of me to assume to like your own nephew.”“God, no.”The late afternoon was brisk yet clear as they made their way out of the market and back toward the apartment, arms overflowing with bagged groceries. Snowflakes floated down from the skies to settle on Yagi’s beanie or the folds of Aizawa’s scarf, white clouds of vapor drifting behind them as they walked from shared laughter and conversation. It reminded Aizawa of the evening over two years ago when he’d mustered up enough courage to approach Yagi outside his tattoo parlor to book his session. A decision that had sent his life spiralling in a direction he never imagined. Aizawa thought it seemed like a lifetime ago, as Yagi leaned down to nuzzle his cold, reddened nose against the side of his neck while they waited at a crosswalk, making him shiver and nearly drop the bags. Was he moving too quickly? The thought made his stomach sink, made the ring in his jacket pocket feel as though it weighed a thousand pounds. They’d only been official a little over a year, and only really started living together at Yagi’s much larger apartment three months back after returning from the New York trip. Three months of waking up in the same bed together wasn’t enough to make someone want to marry you, no matter how great the sex was or how comfortable everything seemed. Aizawa’s mouth felt dry as they slipped into the warmth of the apartment complex and rang for the elevator. He tightened his grip around the bags in his arms and buried his chin in the scarf he wore.God… was he making a mistake?The ride up toward their apartment was quiet, and Aizawa risked a glance over, only to catch Yagi staring down at him with such incredible softness in his shadowed eyes that it stole the breath from his lungs. It was the kind of look that ran deep, that shimmied through the cracks in his carefully built walls and saw what was hidden behind them. His cheeks went hot. “What?”Yagi’s smile only grew, and he shook his head. “Just astounded.”“By?”“How much I adore you.”With a groan, Aizawa shoved his face into the package of marshmallows at the top of the bag he carried, prompting a laugh from his boyfriend. As the elevator opened, he led the way toward their shared apartment but paused outside the door with a soft curse. “Fuck, the key is in my jean pocket. Can you grab it, babe?” When he received no response, Aizawa blinked and glanced over, but saw only empty hallway behind him. “…Toshinori?”“Down here.”Aizawa dropped his eyes and nearly dropped the bags of groceries as well.Yagi was kneeling on the ground before him, his beanie shucked off, and the sight brought forth an overwhelming jolt of familiarity. He was smiling, the kind of smile that reached his eyes and creased them at the very corners, the smile that Aizawa had fallen in love with over two years ago the day he moved in.“Toshi… w-what…”“When we first met, I was just like this,” Yagi began, and Aizawa’s heart began to race at the nervous tremor that rang clear in his voice. “On my knees outside our apartments, offering you your fallen key back. It was the first time I’d ever lain my eyes on you, the man who would frustrate and infuriate me for so many months afterward. The man I couldn’t help but be drawn to, the man I desperately ached to know like a sunflower reaching toward the kiss of the sun. The man who would soon become the love of my life, all because of a random chance encounter over a fallen key.”Aizawa’s heart was going to come out of his throat. “Oh my god…”“Well, now I’m on my knees again, offering something else,” Yagi swallowed, and Aizawa could see his hands shaking as he reached into the pocket of his own jacket. Slowly, he drew out a small black box, tears gleaming freshly in his eyes. Trembling, he opened it, revealing a striking ring forged in tungsten carbide as black as night with the inside plated in gold. The exact opposite of the one sitting in Aizawa’s pocket. “I’m offering me, just as I am, for the rest of our lives.”Aizawa’s legs nearly gave out. “Shouta Aizawa, my love, my sweetheart, my sunshine… will you marry me?”Tears rolling hotly down his cheeks, Aizawa couldn’t help but burst out laughing.“O…kay, that was not the response I expected,” Yagi frowned, shoulders stiffening.“N-No, wait… w-wait, that’s not what I… oh, my god hang on.”He needed to put the groceries down. He needed to put them down or else there were going to be oranges rolling down the hall and jars of honey shattered and bleeding onto the carpet. His hands were shaking too much. His entire body was shaking. With laughter. With nerves. With overwhelming emotion. Slowly, Aizawa lowered himself to his knees before Yagi and set the bags aside. His boyfriend eyed him warily, ring still extended in the air between them. Sniffling, Aizawa reached into his jacket pocket and carefully drew out the box he’d kept so carefully concealed in the week since it was purchased, offering it meekly with a tearful smile. “You beat me to it."“Oh my god…” Yagi clamped one hand over his mouth, tears falling through his own laugh. “Oh, my fucking god, we suck at this!”Aizawa threw himself into Yagi’s arms, not sure whether he was laughing or sobbing anymore as his face buried into the other man’s shoulder. Yagi clung to him tightly, his own body shaking with emotions that couldn’t be placed, before drawing back just enough to press their foreheads together. Their smiles were wide, their cheeks soaked. Aizawa leaned up and kissed him sweetly, tasting his tears, his laughter, his joy.“I can’t believe we did this at the same time,” Yagi chuckled, voice thick.“At least you had a whole thing set up!” Aizawa responded. “I was half-ready to fucking leave it in your noodles or something. I’ve been wracking my brain on how to ask you for days.”“Days?! How long have you had this thing?”“A week…?” “Oh my god, Shouta, you’re ridiculous.” Yagi grinned and reached up to gently tuck a lock of Aizawa’s dark hair behind his ear. “Can I see it?”Nodding, Aizawa pulled back the velvet lid to reveal the ring, and the sound of Yagi’s gasp was something he hoped to remember until he exhaled his final breath. “I don’t have a whole speech planned,” Aizawa stammered out, fresh tears building. “Because no matter how many times I went over it in my head, no words were able to properly describe how much you mean to me, Toshinori Yagi. No words in any language are worthy of you, of the warmth and joy and peace you bring into my life every single day. I’ve never felt more complete, and I meant it when I said that I wanted to grow old with you. I want to spend the rest of my life irrevocably in love with you as your husband.”Yagi sobbed and Aizawa cradled his face in one hand, letting their warm, winter-chapped mouths brush as he continued.“To answer your earlier question… yes. Yes, yes, a thousand times over, I will marry you,” he whispered, warm and shaky against his lips as he locked their eyes. “Will you do me that same honor, my sunflower? Will you marry me back?”“God yes,” Yagi breathed. “Please, yes.”When their mouths slotted together, the heat behind it was quiet, a mere ember compared to the happiness that blazed with every stroke of their tongues. Aizawa drew back to catch his breath, but Yagi only chased his lips with another kiss and a shared, breathy laugh between them. He couldn’t imagine how they must have looked just then, kneeling on the ground outside their apartment, tear-soaked and making out while surrounded by bags of groceries.Sniffling, Aizawa broke the kiss just long enough to stand, drawing Yagi up right along with him. Yagi took his left hand and ran the pad of his thumb over his ring finger. “Can I put it on you?” He asked.Aizawa nodded, throat tight as he watched Yagi gently pull the ring free from the velvet casing.“I chose the one with the gold plating on the inside because it reminded me of the light and warmth you prefer to keep hidden away from the world,” Yagi explained, hands shaking as he slipped the ring onto Aizawa’s finger. A perfect fit, of course. “Over time, the black tungsten is going to wear down, and gold cracks are going to appear all over the surface, like the bits of you I’m discovering every single day we’re together.” Aizawa bit back the wave of emotion threatening to pull him under and repeated the gesture with his own ring. He feathered a long kiss to the backs of Yagi’s knuckles. “The one I chose is the opposite,” he whispered and held the ring up in the hallway lighting. “I opted for the classic look for you. Sleek and gold, as bright as the sun with tungsten hidden on the inside. The black reminded me of the charcoal stains on your fingertips and on the pages of your sketchbooks, and the inks you so beautifully work with. But I couldn’t just leave it at that. It didn’t seem like enough.”Aizawa tilted the ring just enough for Yagi to read the engraving on the inside.“Forever my sunflower…” Yagi read, and fresh tears sprung into his eyes. “You fucking sap.”“Yep,” Aizawa laughed and slid the ring onto Yagi’s waiting finger. “For your eyes only.”He was shoved back against the apartment door before he had time to think, the motion eliciting a gasp that was quickly swallowed up by Yagi’s mouth. They kissed fiercely, hungrily, lips and tongues and teeth clashing and marking. Desperate to be closer. To claw away clothing and flesh and bone and sink their souls into each other. And yet it still wouldn’t be close enough. One of Yagi’s huge tattooed hands took hold of both Aizawa’s wrists, pinning them high and leaving him vulnerable and utterly without control. A low, heady moan escaped him as Yagi hiked one of his legs up around his waist and ground him against the door.They needed to get inside. Fuck the groceries. He needed Yagi’s clothes on the floor and his cock deep inside him. He needed to be fucked raw against the nearest flat surface until he forgot his own name, wearing nothing but the ring on his finger. Aizawa keened as his boyfriend… no, his fiancé… pushed his scarf aside and sunk his teeth into the curve of his neck. With a click, the apartment door suddenly swung open behind them, and Aizawa yelped as he fell backwards to land with Yagi in a heap. He struck the floor hard, groaning as pain sung through his skull and spine. Yagi lay sprawled on top of him, and Aizawa opened one eye to peer over the other man’s shoulder at the head of wild indigo hair hovering above them.“Hey, Uncle Shouta.”Aizawa groaned. “Mother… Fucker.”“Glad to see you, too.” Shinsou was laughing, hands shoved into the pocket of a ratty old hoodie with some indie metal band’s logo written across the front in cracked red vinyl. He looked about the same as ever, haggard eyes rimmed in dark liner, broad shouldered and effortlessly good looking. There was a brand-new piercing gleaming silver on one of his brows. “Hey, gangly.”Head buried against Aizawa’s chest, Yagi lifted a hand with a half-hearted wave.“How the hell are you inside my house?” Aizawa glared up at him.“Your boy toy here made me a key, and I let myself in when no one answered my knock,” Shinsou shrugged, making no move to help either of them up. His smirk was slow and wicked. “Really couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to get inside, huh?”Aizawa shot his fiancé a look. “You made him a key?!”“It sounded convenient at the time,” Yagi grumbled.“I’ll just grab the groceries while you two disaster gays figure out all… this.” Shinsou gestured vaguely toward their current position before hopping over Yagi’s sprawled legs. He began gathering the bags. “Fuck yeah, marshmallows!”Aizawa could feel Yagi snickering against his chest and gave his shoulder a smack, prompting him to lift his head and peer at him through unkempt blonde bangs, blue eyes simmering with quiet heat that made Aizawa’s toes curl in his boots. Yagi pecked his chin. “To be continued.”Aizawa was holding him to that.If there was one thing Aizawa couldn’t get enough of, it was the sight of his now-fiancé in the kitchen, donned in a black apron with the sleeves of his button-down rolled to his elbows, whistling a familiar tune over the sounds of frying tonkatsu. Yagi had his hair tied back, cheeks dusted slightly pink from the heat rising in plumes from the pan and rice cooker, and Aizawa could do nothing more than lean his hip on the doorframe and do everything in his power to keep his hands to himself. Fresh vegetables lay scattered about the counter, chopped fine by the skillful touch of the finest tattoo artist in the city. Everything Yagi did, whether it was his work, cooking, making love… he did it with intention, with thought and care. Even his proposal, Aizawa thought as he gazed fondly at the ring on his finger. “Are you just going to stand there staring?” Yagi’s voice cut in, soft and laced with a smirk that Aizawa couldn’t see from where he stood. “Or are you going to come over here?”Aizawa didn’t need much more than that, closing the space between them in three strides and curling his arms around Yagi’s middle from behind. Yagi smelled of sea salt and lavender, and the warmth of his skin bled through the shirt he wore. Aizawa nuzzled against his shoulder blades where he knew the blazing phoenix was inked, squeezing tight while remaining mindful of the vicious scar on his fiancé’s left side. “Did you need help?” He asked, peering at the pork cutlets Yagi had frying on the stove.“Mm,” Yagi shook his head and closed his left hand over Aizawa’s, lacing their fingers so that their rings could press together. “Just wanted you close.”Shinsou made a disgusted noise from behind them.“So, you two are really getting hitched, huh?” Shinsou asked from where he sat lounged on the couch, Mochi nestled on his lap. “I’m going to have to watch this sap-fest for the rest of my goddamn life?”“Indeed you are,” Yagi replied as he worked. Aizawa smiled against his shirt.“All I’m saying is that I’d better receive free tattoos for life as compensation for not hurling every time the two of you start pawing at each other like teenagers,” Shinsou grunted.Yagi smirked over his shoulder. “I’ll write up the contract.”The knock on the door was unexpected, and Aizawa released his hold on Yagi’s waist to answer it. What stood behind was a bright-eyed teenaged boy Aizawa vaguely recalled meeting once or twice in the past whenever he found his apartment infested by youths at the end of every summer. The kid looked to be about Shinsou’s age, with blonde hair styled in wild spikes and an oversized black leather jacket stitched through with yellow lightning bolts at each shoulder. He had a black choker at his throat and rips in his faded grey jeans, but his smile was next to bashful as Aizawa looked him over with a scrutinizing eye.“Uh… hi,” the kid rubbed at the back of his neck, awkward limbed and soft despite his attire. “Mr. Aizawa, right? I’m Denki Kaminari.”“Right, Hitoshi’s friend from school,” Aizawa nodded. “Can I help you?”Shinsou suddenly appeared at Aizawa’s left, his voice gentler than it had ever been. “Hey, man.”It might have been the lighting, it might have been his mind, but Aizawa could have sworn he saw a touch of pink settle on the kid’s cheeks. “Hi.”Interesting.“Let me just grab my things, and we can take off, alright?” Shinsou said.Kaminari nodded enthusiastically, but the gesture was lost in widened eyes as he caught sight of something over Shinsou’s shoulder. He clamped both hands over his mouth. “H-Holy… crap… is that Toshinori Yagi?!”Aizawa and Shinsou both turned to see Yagi lingering behind them with an armful of plates he’d fetched from the cabinet, paused midstride and still donned in his apron.“Uh… yeah?” Shinsou shrugged.“I’m such a huge fan!” Kaminari’s voice reached a level that could have distressed a dog two blocks over, hands clutching the front of his obnoxiously bright t-shirt as he bowed low in greeting. “Your work inspires me, sir!”“Oh!” Yagi’s face lit up, and he swept over to gather the kid’s hand in a firm shake. Kaminari looked ready to collapse at the contact. “Thank you so much. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man.”“Holy crap, holy crap,” Kaminari was staring at the piece of the whirling dragon sleeve revealed on Yagi’s right forearm, grasping his hand in both of his and shaking wildly. “You got this piece at the Fujiyoshida Tattoo Art Festival ten years ago! I watched them livestream it!”Yagi laughed and patted the kids’ hand to settle him down. “You know your stuff. We were just about to sit down for dinner, if you’d care to join us? I made plenty.”Shinsou piped in. “A-Actually, we were just going to—”“YES.” Aizawa stood back as Kaminari darted into the apartment with the sleeve of Shinsou’s hoodie clutched in his hand, and the latter teenager shot Yagi a scathing look before he was dragged away, evening plans foiled. Yagi chuckled, shoving the apartment door closed with his foot.“Am I going to have to endure shrieking fanboys at our doorstep through our entire marriage?” Aizawa asked, arms folded over his chest.“It’s possible.”“I suddenly change my mind about agreeing to all this.”Yagi leaned down and kissed his temple. “No take backs.”Aizawa feigned disappointment before turning and seizing Yagi’s shirt to yank him down into a proper kiss. A warm melding of mouths that had him cursing the sudden influx of teenagers in their apartment.Kaminari gasped hard from across the room.“Wait… wait!” He stared between Aizawa and Yagi before grabbing Shinsou’s shirt and gesturing wildly. “That’s gangly?!”Yagi cracked up.“That’s the gangly that’s boning your uncle?!” Kaminari looked downright aghast while he shook Shinsou’s shoulders like a ragdoll in the hands of a toddler. “A whole goddamn year of this, and you didn’t think to tell me that your uncle was getting boned by Toshinori fucking Yagi?!”“Please stop saying bone,” Aizawa deadpanned and shoved Yagi’s shoulder. “You. Stop laughing.”Yagi keeled over, clutching his knees as he wheezed.“I didn’t think it mattered?” Shinsou cocked his pierced brow.“Of course it fucking matters! Holy shit, and are those rings? They’re getting married?!” Kaminari threw his arms around Shinsou’s middle and squeezed hard enough to make the other boy choke out a breathless laugh. “You’re going to be his nephew, dude! Right on!”“Ha! I guess…”“How the hell are they happier for each other than for us, right now?” Aizawa muttered.Yagi shrugged with a smile.The nonsense carried on throughout their meal, a cacophony of raucous laughter and stories shared across a sleek black table like a proper family gathered over the holidays. Yagi admired the boy that had appeared at his doorstep, he had passion, intelligence, a good heart. And he made Shinsou smile in a quiet way when he assumed no one was watching, a brief flicker of warmth reminding Yagi of the looks he’d once cast the intriguing florist next door who now wore his ring.Afterward, the boys settled in front of the flat screen with a sack of strawberry marshmallows and video games. Yagi found Aizawa in the kitchen, hair thrown back in a high bun as he did the dishes, and immediately came to press against him from behind. Aizawa hummed contentedly, head tilting just enough to grant Yagi as much access as he pleased to that pale, gorgeous neck. Yagi worried a mark into his skin with his teeth and tongue, aching with a happiness he hadn’t known in so long, a twinge that ran deep through his chest.“Funny, isn’t it?” Yagi murmured once he was finished, chin tilting towards the opening in the kitchen wall just above the sink where they could see the boys shoving each other on the couch as they battled. “The sullen little raincloud of a boy, closed off with his snarky comments and indifferent shrugs, chasing after a loud, charming blonde who brings out the best in him.”Aizawa paused with his hands in the water. Yagi grinned. “You two have the same taste in men.”Aizawa laughed in his arms, the sound something he didn’t think he would ever get enough of. “You calling yourself charming, my sunflower?”“Profoundly. Have you met me? I’m a delight.”Aizawa snickered. There was that ache again, that twinge, cutting deep into his chest. But it felt sharper, somehow, teasing at the edges of distant familiarity. With a kiss to Aizawa’s hair, Yagi excused himself and retreated into the bathroom, shutting the door with a resounding click. He reached for the antacids first, but barely had the cap open before his body surged forward through a fit of unexpected coughs. Yagi muffled the sound with a tissue balled up in his fist, wincing at the slice of pain driving up his body with each convulse over the porcelain sink. Eyes stinging, he gasped for breath and peered down at the fresh smattering of red all over his hand.His body went cold.“Shit…” he breathed, voice rough. Not again. Not now.Yagi balled up the blood-soaked tissue and buried it at the bottom of the trash can out of sight, before slipping quietly into the bedroom before he could be noticed. Quickly, he snatched his phone up from the bedside table and shot his doctor a text, fingers shaking as he typed the words that were so familiar to him.The car accident had been catastrophic in more ways than the scar on his side revealed. The absence of an entire lung was something most humans couldn’t endure, much less for nearly three decades. The sheer amount of scar tissue surrounding what remained of his respiratory system was debilitating. Often, Yagi found himself short of breath from a mere climb up the stairs or battling back coughs after a particularly loud laugh, but he’d always kept it concealed. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had once been, freshly home from the hospital and keeled over the toilet as he vomited red and black against the porcelain. Breaths that rattled thickly with blood, pain that left him curled up in the fetal position at the foot of his bed, sweat-soaked and clutching his chest as he couldn’t draw enough air in.As the years passed, the symptoms had lessened. His breathing became clearer, the pain subsiding into no more than a dull ache when he laughed too loudly or laid sprawled after a night of sex. Nothing he couldn’t handle, nothing that was cause for concern.
But, every so often, his scar tissue would inflame, and he’d be just like this: sitting on the edge of his bed with his doctor’s number blinking back at him on the phone screen, the sharp tang of copper sitting heavily at the back of his throat.Yagi knew the routine. A check up, some meds, an inhaler to soothe the inflammation, and a metric fuck ton of rest balanced with the hope that this, too, would pass.Last thing he needed was to literally start coughing up his own lung at his wedding.“Toshi?”He hadn’t heard the bedroom door open, and Yagi’s head snapped up to behold Aizawa lingering in the threshold, brows furrowed in concern.God, the mere sight of him made something in Yagi want to burst into tears. More beautiful than words could describe, donned in those ridiculous pink sweatpants with his hair pinned high. The love of his life, the man he was going to marry even if it killed him to get there.“You okay, baby?” Aizawa asked softly while easing the door shut behind him.Yagi forced a smile and nodded. He slipped his phone into his pocket. “Just a touch of heartburn.”“Teenagers will do that.” Aizawa smiled, worry clear in his voice. “Do you need anything? I can make you some tea.”“No…” Yagi beckoned Aizawa over with an extended hand. “Just you.”His lover drifted across the room toward him with the grace of smoke off the end of a cigarette, straddling Yagi’s lap, sinking against his body like he was made to be nowhere else. Yagi sighed, ignoring the bite of pain in his chest, as Aizawa’s hands moved to tangle through the back of his hair, freeing it from the knot. Leaning up, he kissed him, not on his mouth, but on the hollow of his throat, fearful of Aizawa catching the taste of blood on his tongue.He couldn’t worry him. He wouldn’t.He felt Aizawa’s breathing start to quicken, especially as Yagi grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it up and off his body. He took a moment of selfish indulgence, letting his eyes and hands roam over the cluster of wild sunflowers tattooed onto Aizawa’s side, his work, his art, his claim. Goosebumps skittered across Aizawa’s inked flesh in the wake of Yagi’s travelling fingertips, body shuddering, arcing into the touch. He traced the sharp black lines, the blooms of bright yellow color, until they disappeared beneath the waistband of shocking pink sweats.“Toshi…” Aizawa breathed, mouth nuzzling against Yagi’s cheek. “I need you.”He swallowed, worry gnawing at his gut when he thought about exerting himself to the point of a coughing fit. “How?”“Any way. Any way you’ll take me.” Aizawa rolled his hips forward. “Please.”Relief blossoming in his chest, Yagi nodded and manhandled them both into a better position. A soft laugh bubbled up from Aizawa’s chest as he was tossed down onto his back across the mattress, and his pants were shucked clean off and thrown with a dramatic flourish over Yagi’s shoulder. Remaining dressed, Yagi pressed chaste kisses up the center of Aizawa’s stomach, moving slowly upward as the younger man writhed impatiently on the sheets beneath him. Callused fingers, faintly scarred from the kiss of a thousand thorned roses, slid beneath the back of his shirt to scratch at his shoulder blades. Yagi loved the feel of it, the sting and lingering burn of waking up with claw marks scored down his back, of working session after session with the ache of his lover’s nails burning beneath his shirt. Aizawa was already hard beneath him, cock leaking heavily where it lay against his stomach, and the black tie Yagi wore dragged slowly up his sensitive flesh, making him quiver.Aizawa reached for the buttons of Yagi’s shirt, but was stopped with a soft touch to his wrists. He frowned. “I want to see you.”“This is about you right now, kitten. Just you. And tonight?” Yagi smirked and loosened his tie with a few sharp tugs. The dark silk was soft in his fingers, and he wrapped it over Aizawa’s eyes as a makeshift blindfold, tying it tight at the back of his head. “Tonight, you’re not seeing anything.”Aizawa keened. “Fuck.”“Now, you need to be nice and quiet for me, alright kitten?” Yagi reached into the bedside drawer for the bottle of warming lubricant. “Don’t want the brats to hear you.”Aizawa’s teeth dragged over his lower lip as he nodded, hands fisting into the sheets at his sides. He was a vision laid out before him, a feast for his eyes alone to devour. Yagi mapped out the dips and planes of taut muscle with his gaze, the dark trail leading from a broad chest to the base of Aizawa’s leaking cock, he way his hair had begun to come undone from his bun to fall in sheets of silken ebony across a flushed brow, the sunflowers that claimed him nearly as fully as the black ring on his left hand.Yagi smiled softly to himself as he warmed a large dollop of lubricant with his fingers, the slick sound amplified by the silence of their bedroom and Aizawa’s impatient breaths.Nothing on earth or in heaven would keep him from marrying this man. Not even the betrayal of his own broken body. He would make sure of that.“Toshi?” Aizawa whispered, and reached a hand out blindly, seeking him. “Babe? You’re quiet.”Yagi allowed Aizawa to find his face, smiling as he nuzzled a kiss to his palm. “I’m here, my sweet. And you are so, so beautiful. I just can’t believe you’re mine.”Yagi moved to lay prone against Aizawa’s side, then, weight settled on one elbow so he could watch every expression pass across the younger man’s face. Aizawa looped one arm around Yagi’s shoulders, fingers weaving in through the back of his wild hair to massage circles against his scalp. The motion that always soothed him, even now with the taste of blood at the back of his throat. Yagi leaned down and kissed at the corner of his mouth, denying him what he wanted, and reached down to brush slick fingers over Aizawa’s hole, making him jump.“Spread your thighs,” he commanded softly, and Aizawa immediately obeyed. “Nice and wide for me.”Gently, he eased a single finger into the waiting heat of Aizawa’s body, causing them both to groan quietly in response. Yagi made sure to move slowly, sinking in one knuckle at a time, feeling Aizawa tremble and contract around him. So hot, so tight, it made his own cock twitch where it pressed against the inside of his jeans. He would have given anything to fuck him properly, to throw Aizawa’s legs over each of his shoulders and bend him clean in half as he drove mercilessly into him with his hips.Not yet. Not until he was sure his lung would be able to handle the strain. Until then, just making Aizawa shake with a single touch was more than good enough. “Baby…” Aizawa’s mouth fell open as a second finger was added, twisting and stretching against his slickened walls. “O-Oh… oh fuck…”“Shh…” Yagi ran his teeth over the sharp curve of unshaven jaw. “I want you to come just like this, with nothing but my fingers inside of you.”Aizawa whimpered and bit his lower lip to silence himself. “Toshi…”“You’re so good for me, kitten,” Yagi breathed praises against his ear. “Can I make you come untouched, I wonder? Using nothing but my long, thick fingers buried deep inside, working you open?”Gently, carefully, he pushed a third finger inside with the others, and Aizawa’s back arched in response with a whine he had to muffle by biting down onto the heel of his hand. The other lay buried in Yagi’s hair, tugging sharply, and Yagi growled and sunk his teeth into Aizawa’s throat to silence his own sounds. Aizawa’s cock was swollen and soaked where it stood between shaking thighs, bobbing in time with each thrust of Yagi’s fingers. Hungrily, he pressed in deeper, seeking that sensitive little gland and giving it the faintest brush, devouring the look that crossed Aizawa’s face as he did so.Aizawa bucked with a sudden broken cry that Yagi silenced immediately with his hand, broad palm clamping across his mouth. Aizawa keened and writhed hard, heels dragging along the bedsheets as Yagi spread his three fingers, letting him feel the burn and stretch. He was shaking, desperate, choked words and sobs of pleasure vibrating against Yagi’s palm. “God… fuck…” Yagi tried to keep his breathing even, despite the hammering of his heart. “I love it when you get like this, Shouta. I love watching you fall apart. You’re so needy. So hungry. I could fuck you open for hours and it still wouldn’t be enough.”Aizawa whimpered and dug his nails into his wrist. Yagi couldn’t see his eyes, but he imagined them rolling back into his head with each deepening thrust of his fingers. “So gorgeous,” Yagi kissed his throat, his jaw, his cheek, and sought out Aizawa’s prostate for the second time, grinning as he jolted and yanked at his hair with a muffled groan. “Mm… how badly do you want to come, my love?”He removed his hand from Aizawa’s mouth and instead gripped his jaw hard. “P-Please…” Aizawa whimpered as quietly as he could, breath hitching each time Yagi’s fingers drove into him deeply. His cock bobbed, aching. “Please… I want to c-come so badly, baby… so badly…”Yagi sat up slightly so he could hover over Aizawa’s quaking form, fingers pumping deeper, faster, driving against his prostate at a punishing rate. His own arm was growing tired with the movement, but he didn’t care, not when the love of his life was blindfolded and losing control beneath him. Not when Aizawa’s mouth was hanging open while his skin flushed and glistened with beaded sweat. Aizawa clutched onto Yagi’s shoulders, nails digging crescent-shaped scars into the lean muscle there, trying everything to keep from making a sound when there were too many curious teenagers within earshot. Yagi curled his fingers, stroking at Aizawa’s trembling walls, relishing in the way they clenched hard around them as his orgasm built. He was so close. Yagi could feel it, could see it in the way Aizawa’s hands began to shake, the way his hips canted up, grinding desperately against the fingers buried inside him.“Do you want to come on my fingers, my sweetheart?” Yagi leaned in close, breath hot against Aizawa’s ear. “Or my tongue?”Aizawa grabbed the front of his shirt so hard, Yagi almost thought the fabric tore, and that was all the answer he needed. Quickly, he removed his fingers from the younger man’s body and positioned himself on his knees between his spread, trembling legs. Smirking, Yagi seized Aizawa’s hips hard and drew them up and off the bed without warning, positioning Aizawa in a way that had all his weight settled down on his shoulders with his thighs locked tight around Yagi’s neck. The younger man was practically upside down, muffling his own cries with his hand as Yagi’s mouth immediately sought his hole.Yagi ignored the slight bitterness of the lube as he teased the clenching ring of muscle with his tongue, probing and swirling, lapping hungrily in the way he knew made Aizawa see stars behind his eyes. He’d been worked open so beautifully that he welcomed Yagi’s mouth as well as he would his cock, hips rolling as he fucked himself eagerly on Yagi’s tongue as it pushed inside. “F-Fuck… fuck, fuck…” Aizawa whined high behind his hand. “Oh god… oh T-Toshi, just like that… j-just… oh, I’m gonna come… I’m g-gonna…”Yagi growled, arm locked tight around Aizawa’s middle as he reached down to palm himself through his jeans, desperate to meet his end at the same time. All it took was the slight graze of teeth against the edge, and Aizawa was there. Hips bucking so hard that Yagi nearly lost his grip, Aizawa released a broken shout into the palm of his hand, cock spilling white jets across his chest and stomach without ever being touched. Yagi devoured him through it, tongue moving over his spasming hole, a high whimper breaking passed his lips as he followed, shooting hot inside his jeans. Dizzy, blissful despite the pain wracking through his chest, Yagi gently eased Aizawa back down onto the mattress and slipped away to the bathroom to fetch a wet cloth. The moment the door clicked shut, he turned and coughed hard into the curve of his elbow, grateful that the dark color of his shirt could mask the smattering of fresh blood. His body surged, tears springing into his eyes with familiar pain that made him grind his teeth in frustration, in seething anger. He hated this. This weakness. A weakness he swore to ensure Aizawa would never see.Once he was sure the attack had passed, Yagi quickly brushed his teeth and returned to the bed with a warm cloth in hand. Aizawa was still in the exact same spot he’d left him, fucked out and loose-limbed, hair clinging to his face. Yagi smiled and sat on the edge of the mattress to clean his skin in soothing swipes.“Are you okay, sunflower?” Aizawa asked between panted breaths, pulling the tie off his eyes at last. “I heard you coughing.”Yagi nodded. “Mm… perfectly fine, my sweetheart. Are you?”“Never better,” Aizawa sighed blissfully as Yagi ran the cloth up his chest to cool the sweat from his neck. He glanced down at the wet stain soaking through Yagi’s jeans and arched a brow. “Did you come in your pants?”“Like a goddamn teenager.”Aizawa laughed hoarsely, and yanked Yagi in by the front of his shirt to claim his mouth in a kiss, which Yagi now happily obliged. When his fiancé reached for his buttons a second time, Yagi didn’t stop him, humming contentedly as the younger man rid him of his clothing with eager hands. Yagi kicked his jeans clean off and crawled up to gather Aizawa close, spooning him from behind with his left hand settled over his quickly-beating heart. Aizawa held it close, thumb tracing the engagement ring as Yagi pushed his nose against the back of his neck, breathing deeply. “I love you, Shouta,” Yagi murmured. “You know that, right?”“Of course I do,” Aizawa responded sleepily. “And you love me?”“With my entire soul. No matter what.”Yagi clenched his eyes shut and held his beloved just a little tighter that night, his last words ringing in his ears.No matter what.He visited the doctor’s office long before Aizawa would notice his absence, dawn’s pale light spilling in through the windows as Yagi endured the familiar procedure of laborious breathing exercises and blood tests while a stethoscope pressed coldly against his tattooed chest. He fiddled with his engagement ring through it all, tongue tasting thickly of hot copper and iron.It was just as he’d expected. Another flare up, another section of scar tissue that had somehow gotten bothered enough to be a nuisance for a while. Nothing to fret too much about, should he take the proper precautions. He was immediately placed on daily medications and given an inhaler, which he made sure to conceal from Aizawa as well as possible. The doctor wasn’t entirely certain how long it would take to recover and resume his normal routine, but Yagi was willing to leap through any flaming hurdle to ensure he was breathing perfectly on the day he danced with his husband for the first time.He returned home with a tray full of fresh coffees and a baggie of pastries from their favorite bakery down the block and found Aizawa settled at the dining table with an array of fresh flowers scattered before him. Glasses perched on his nose, hair freshly washed and pinned half-up, he sorted through clusters of calla lilies, baby’s breath, leatherleaf ferns…“Sunflowers?” Yagi murmured as he slipped in behind him to press a long kiss to the top of his head. He smelled the same as he had the first night he slept in Yagi’s arms.“Mhm,” Aizawa smiled sleepily and held one up. It beamed brightly at them, stunning and golden. “What do you think? For the wedding.”“…Which wedding?”“Ours?”Yagi paused, heart wrenching through his chest. He stared between Aizawa and the arrangement, voice thick. “You… you’re already designing the arrangements for our wedding?”“Of course I am,” Aizawa peered up at him curiously. “I know we don’t have a set date yet, but no harm in getting a head start on the aesthetics of the ceremony. I was also considering…” he reached across the table and plucked a familiar flower from the pile, soft and blooming and white as snow. It made Yagi’s knees tremble just looking at it. “We have white peonies in our lapel pockets. For your mom. Or is that too much?” He was silently grateful for the inhaler in his jacket pocket, because Yagi was certain he’d nearly forgotten to breathe. Aizawa rubbed at the back of his neck. “…It’s too much isn’t it?”Slowly, Yagi dropped down into a crouch before his fiancé and set the tray of coffees down on the table. He took Aizawa’s hands in his, tears brimming in his eyes. “…October.”Aizawa blinked. “What?”“I want to marry you in October, Shouta. Mid-October, rather, when the leaves are the shade of gold you adore so much.”He could see moisture build behind Aizawa’s dark eyes as well. “You remember that?”“It was one of the first real things about yourself that you told me on the night I fell in love with you. I’ll remember it for the rest of my life, sweetheart.”Aizawa laughed softly and brought Yagi’s hands up to press his mouth against the backs of his knuckles. He suddenly frowned, however, like a thought flickered through his mind. “Wait… this October?”“Yes.”“Toshi, that’s only seven months from now.”Yagi grinned. “And?”Aizawa opened his mouth but was interrupted with a solid knock resounding off the apartment door. Scowling at the interruption at such an early hour, he rose to answer it, socked feet scuffling across the hardwood. To no surprise, Kaminari waved brightly from the hallway the moment the door swung open.“Morning, Mr. Aizawa! I’m here to pick up Shinsou.”“Sure thing,” Aizawa turned and shouted. “Hitoshi! Your man candy is here!”Yagi was certain he saw Kaminari’s face go through every hue of scarlet on the color spectrum before Shinsou made an appearance, fully dressed with Mochi at his heels. He, too, looked utterly mortified, shoulders stiff and at his ears, head low.Yagi could do nothing but hold back his own laughter.“Oh my god…” Shinsou muttered, casting his uncle a horrified glance. He grabbed his coat and slipped out the door without another word to either of them.Aizawa stuck his head out and called after them cheerfully. “Have fun! Use a condom!”“OH MY GOD.”Aizawa slammed the door with a victorious grin.“That was cruel, sweetheart,” Yagi cackled.“Nah,” Aizawa rubbed his hands together deliciously. “That was revenge.”“You okay there, big guy?” Hizashi’s voice seemed distant, as though calling to Yagi from the end of a tunnel. “You’re not lookin’ so hot.”Three weeks. Three weeks of this, of sneaking around his own damn apartment in the middle of the night, of avoiding his fiancé out of fear of him catching on to the fact that he was marrying a weak, broken old man. Three weeks of medicated puffs from an inhaler surging through his crippled lung, of popping pill after pill, of bloodstained tissues hidden at the bottom of a trash can. Three weeks of turning down sex, of feigning heartburn or the beginnings of a head cold. Three weeks of concerned glances, of furrowed brows and hot mugs of tea with fresh honey and lemon being pushed desperately into his hands. Three weeks of being unable to breathe.Three weeks, and still no improvement. In fact, with the wretched burn clawing through his insides, Yagi felt as though he was growing worse.Aware that Hizashi was eyeing him warily, Yagi cleared his throat behind his black mask and picked up his tattoo needle once more. “I’m fine,” he lied, feigning cheer despite the roughness of his voice. “Just the beginnings of a cold, I think.”“Sho mentioned you bein’ under the weather lately,” Hizashi leaned forward a little in the leather chair reserved for clients, his arm extended where Yagi was currently adding the finishing touches to an elaborate compass piece on the inside of his wrist. “I’m cool if you wanna bounce and go crash in your bed for the rest of the day. We can raincheck this, bro.”“It’s fine,” Yagi shook his head, then noticed Hizashi’s frown. “Really. I’m okay.”“You sure?”“I’m sure,” Yagi dipped the buzzing needle into the small cup of oxblood red ink. “You worry nearly as much as Shouta does.”Hizashi crossed the ankles of his metal-tipped snakeskin boots, all long-limbed and donned in loud patterns. Typical master of entertainment, always dressed for a show, even in his downtime. “Speakin’ of, where is the dear old hubby-to-be?”Yagi smiled softly at the title. “Out with Shinsou for the afternoon.”“How domestic.”He chuckled, wiping softly at the blood and ink blooming up from Hizashi’s skin. “The kid’s seemed a little down as of late but hasn’t really told us why. Teenagers and their secrets. Shouta thought it best to have a nice day out, just the two of them.”“He really does visit you guys a lot.”“His parents travel often for business, so he’s usually stuck at home on his own most nights. I think he’s lonely.” Yagi said, jaw clenching at the twinge of white-hot pain crawling up his throat from the center of his chest. He cleared his throat, ignoring it, swallowing down the blood building high. “Much as he and Shouta enjoy riling each other up, there is a lot of love there. Shouta wouldn’t willingly open up our home to the kid anytime he needed it otherwise.” “Sho was exactly like him back in high school,” Hizashi laughed with a shake of his head. “Nothing but a moody little brat with a heart of gold.”“He’s still like that.”Hizashi cackled. “Just wait. I’m savin’ all the best embarrassing high school stories for my best man speech. The room is gonna be howlin’.”“He’s going to leap over the table and strangle you in front of everyone, you know that right?”“Yup.”Ten more minutes, twenty more minutes, and the pain grew to the point where Yagi could no longer supress the jolt of a cough. Swivelling sharply on his roller chair, he closed his hand over his black mask and spattered blood all along the inside of it, thinking it better to opt for being mildly disgusted than letting Hizashi see him vomiting red all over his crisp white shirt. His lung surged, stinging sharp enough to bring tears to his eyes, and the room spun dizzyingly. A hand came to settle on his shoulder, making him jump. “Holy shit, Yagi…”“M’fine,” Yagi coughed as he flicked a dismissive hand. “R-Really…”“No, you’re not,”No, he wasn’t.Slumping, defeated, he raked his gloved fingers back through his hair. He was trembling, hot and icy cold all at once. Sweat bloomed on the back of his neck. “Maybe… Maybe I will take that rain check, after all.”Hizashi nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. “Do you need me to call Sho?”“No,” he spluttered a little too quickly, making Hizashi’s brows furrow deeper. “It’s alright. No need to interrupt his day over a silly chest cold.”“He’s… your fiancé. You being sick interrupts nothin’ man.”Yagi shook his head, smiling mirthlessly. “I can handle making my own mug of tea. Really. After I close up, I’ll head straight to bed.”Hizashi rose and began washing and wrapping his own tattoo, having been inked enough times to know the procedure. “I’ll close your shop, man, you just get upstairs and rest.”“You sure?”“Buddy… just go. Take care of yourself. You look ready to keel over.”He rose slowly, instinct making him reach for his mask to remove it. He caught himself, and instead snatched his coat and phone from behind the front desk. “The security code for the doors is Shouta’s birthday.”Hizashi waved him off. “Gotcha.”Quietly grateful for the kind of people he had in his life, Yagi walked on weakened knees back to his apartment. Inside, he all but collapsed against the bathroom tile, tearing off his mask to reveal a gruesome reflection in the mirror above the sink. There was blood smeared all over his mouth and chin and nose, making him look like another victim in one of Aizawa’s favorite horror films. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin ashen. Shaking, he splashed his face with warm water, scrubbing away the evidence as Mochi ducked into the room and began winding around his calves. It had never gotten this bad. Exhausted, Yagi slumped down onto the bathroom floor and pressed his back against the wall, soothed by the coolness of the tiles seeping in through the back of his shirt. He felt entirely too warm, too weak. Mochi crawled up onto his lap and began kneading at his narrow thighs, her purrs soothing enough to make him smile, despite the fear rocketing through him as harshly as the pain had.Yagi reached into his pocket and drew out the inhaler. It was nearly as empty as the pill bottles.He was running out of excuses. And Aizawa would be home soon.Shinsou was glaring warily at him over a dripping cone of black sesame ice cream.Aizawa paused, returning the look sidelong as they strolled together back toward the shop. “What?”“Since when do you ever get sprinkles?” Shinsou asked, before licking one of the fresh strawberry slices from atop his cone. Aizawa glanced down at his own ice cream, the clusters of heart-shaped sprinkles practically smothering the scoop of vanilla he’d asked for, clinging to the swirls of sticky mango syrup. “I like sprinkles.”“Not that many.”“Maybe I’m in a good mood,” Aizawa swiped his tongue over a patch and savored the sweet crunch. “You’re never in a good mood. Not unless gangly dicks you down, which I know hasn’t happened for a while because you’re usually all starry-eyed and walking with a limp for a few hours.”He thwacked his nephew across the back of the head, eliciting a laugh that wasn’t nearly as cheerful as it had once been. “Brat.”“I’m not wrong, though,” Shinsou shrugged, concern flickering over his face. “You and him okay?”Aizawa nodded. “We’re perfectly fine. He’s just been feeling ill lately.”“Yeah, I’ve noticed that. I hear him hacking up a lung in the bathroom almost every night I’m over.”“Me, too.”Ignoring the worry gnawing at the pit of his stomach, Aizawa watched Shinsou closely out of the tail of his eye. The kid’s shoulders were slouched more than usual, his eyes cast thoughtfully at the fresh spring blossoms scattered across the sidewalk at their feet. Warm days like this normally brought about such a good mood from him, but his usual spark had been snuffed out for over a week, now. Not even a sickly-sweet treat before supper seemed to cut through the festering cloud of teenaged brooding.Then again, Aizawa had noticed the absence of a certain blonde coming around lately, too.He sighed, stuffing his free hand into the pocket of his jeans, letting the afternoon breeze kick up the ends of his long dark hair and the scarf draped loosely over his shoulders. “What happened with your friend?”Shinsou visibly stiffened. “Nothing.”“You’re a terrible fucking liar, Hitoshi.” “And you’re being a pest. Please just drop it.”Without prompt, Aizawa wrapped his arm around his nephew’s broad shoulders, drawing his stiffened body tight against his side as they walked. Shinsou resisted at first, but he could feel the kid shaking in his grip, a cracking dam barely holding back the threatening wave of emotion. Aizawa leaned in close, cheek resting against a mess of indigo hair. “You’re my family, and I’m concerned. If something happened, if you’re hurt in any way, I want to know about it so I can help you, you little bastard. That’s my job.”Leaned heavily against Aizawa’s side, Shinsou remained silent for a long while, and Aizawa allowed it. He wouldn’t push, he wouldn’t force it out if it simply wasn’t the time. Instead, rather, he provided the kid with a cone of ice cream, a supportive crutch, and a feather-light kiss to the top of his head. As they approached A LOGICAL ROSE, Shinsou knuckled at his eyes, voice thick. “…I fucked up, Uncle Shouta.”Aizawa stopped walking, brows furrowed. “Fucked up how?”Shinsou drew away, scrubbing a hand over his face. “A little over a week ago, while Denki and I were out at the park after the movies, he kissed me.” His smile was soft, distant, and downright heartbreaking. His hand lifted to brush against his lips. “Just out of nowhere, the gentlest peck against my mouth when I turned to ask him a question. Caught me totally by surprise.”“Did you not want it?” Aizawa frowned.“N-No… No, I did. I really… I really did, but…”“But?”“But I fucking ran.”Aizawa stared at him. “You… ran?”“Took the fuck off at full clip all the way back to mom’s,” Shinsou groaned and tossed his half-finished ice cream into the nearby trash can, seemingly too distressed to eat. “I don’t know why! I’ve been thinking of kissing Denki for months, now, and then it suddenly happens and I just… panic. I panicked and now I don’t know how to fix it. He’s been trying to text me or call my phone, but I’ve been too scared to face him.”Aizawa took a moment to process the confession, and then shook his head with a laugh. “Wow.”“I’m sorry… this is funny to you?” Shinsou bristled.“No,” Aizawa smiled softly. “No, it’s just a little shocking how much like me you really are.”Shinsou blinked.“C’mon,” Aizawa drew out his keys and unlocked the front door to the flower shop, frowning softly to himself when he noticed the glaring neon sign of ALMIGHTY INK had been turned off, and it looked as though there was no one inside. Didn’t Yagi have a session with Hizashi tonight? It couldn’t have ended already…Shinsou followed him into the shop and toward the back room where he kept all the freshest flowers chilled. Aizawa clicked on the light and shouldered his jacket off, gesturing with a tilt of his chin. “Pick some.”Shinsou stood in the middle of the room, staring. “…What?”“You like this kid, right?”“Yeah…” Shinsou’s shoulders drooped. “So, so much.”Aizawa smiled, hearing his own heartache for the tattooist next door in his nephew’s tone. The desperate want, the sweet twinge right at the center of his chest, was palpable in its familiarity. Shinsou had it bad, and he was just as terrified as Aizawa had been over a year ago on that night in the club. “You need to make things right,” he explained. “I want you to go around this room and choose any flowers that remind you of him. That are special to the both of you. Then I’m going to make you a bouquet, and you’re doing to march your ass to his front door and give it to him with your best fucking apology. You’re going to carve your heart out on that front step and let yourself bleed at his feet, because it’s worth it. If he means this much to you, he’s worth it.”“I’m not good at this.”“Neither am I, but I swallowed my fear and did it on a rainy September morning to the man my heart bled for, and now I’m wearing his engagement ring.”Shinsou looked at the black band on his uncle’s left hand and smiled softly, terror evident in the bob of his throat as he swallowed down. Then, with a steadying breath, he began to move through the shelves and baskets stocked full of fresh, cooled flowers, fingering at their soft petals or jagged leaves, lost in thought. While he chose, Aizawa tore a large sheet of brown paper from the roll mounted on the wall and draped it across his work bench. As he threw his hair back, he felt his phone vibrate once in his back pocket and plopped his reading glasses on the bridge of his nose before pulling it out.
MESSAGE FROM HIZASHI YAMADA | 16:42 PM
Not to scare the shit out of you, but I’d check in on your man ASAP. He’s not doing great. Aizawa felt a veil of ice drape over his body from the head down as he reread the message. Hands shaking, he typed a reply.
REPLY FROM SHOUTA AIZAWA | 16:44 PM
The hell do you mean ‘not doing great’? What happened at your session tonight?
MESSAGE FROM HIZASHI YAMADA | 16:45 PM
Had to end it early cause the dude looked like a mess, Sho. I’m not letting him work like that, so I sent his ass upstairs to rest. I recommend some heavy-duty cough drops and couch cuddles stat.
REPLY FROM SHOUTA AIZAWA | 16:46 PM
Fuck.
REPLY FROM SHOUTA AIZAWA| 16:46 PM
Thank you, Zashi.
MESSAGE FROM HIZASHI YAMADA | 16:48 PM
Just doing my job as your best man. Tell him get well soon from me.
REPLY FROM SHOUTA AIZAWA | 16:49 PM
Will do.Gently, he set the phone aside and pushed his glasses down just enough to rub his thumb and forefinger over his eyes. There was a soft sound from beside him, a clearing of a throat, and Aizawa turned to see Shinsou standing bashfully with an armful of flowers, his eyes cast toward the floor.He chose dahlias, big and bursting with a wide fan of supple petals the color of butter, looking so much like the wild blonde spikes on the boy he adored so much. Aizawa also noted a handful of plump English roses, as white as winter, and stalks of rich purple bellflowers. “Good choices,” he smiled, gathering them from Shinsou’s hands.Shinsou stood by patiently as Aizawa got to work, setting the chosen flowers in specific order upon the brown paper. He nestled them among a cradle of myrtle and a few silver sprigs of dusty miller, before binding them tight in their wrapping and tying it off with a ribbon of butcher’s twine to seal it all together in a perfectly rustic finish. He handed the bouquet over to his nephew, who held it like it was made of glass.“You’re really good at that,” Shinsou mumbled with a half-smile.Aizawa chuckled, but as his nephew turned to leave, he reached out and clamped his hand over his shoulder. “Hold on, there was another reason why I brought you out today.”Shinsou cocked his pierced brow.Slowly, Aizawa stepped around to stand before the kid, noting how much taller he’d gotten over the last year. He was nearly seventeen, now. Reckless and temperamental and arrogant, but with a persistence and a drive that Aizawa knew well. And a heart as soft as the marshmallows Aizawa always made sure to keep stocked in his pantry.“You’re the closest family I have,” Aizawa began softly, setting both hands on those broad shoulders. “And whether you want to hear it or not, I am astoundingly proud of the young man you’ve become, and I love you deeply.”Shinsou groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Uncle Shouta…”“Shut it,” Aizawa grinned. “You were there for me when I struggled with my feelings for Toshinori, pushing and prodding and embarrassing me in every way possible, because you could see how much I fought with myself and my own fear of intimacy. You say you just wanted us to… and may I quote… ‘bone’…”Shinsou laughed.“But I could tell how happy you were when the two of us got together for real.”“You’re both old and disgusting,” Shinsou said softly, before adding. “And it makes me happy seeing you happy.”“Which is why I want you to be a part of our big day,” Aizawa squeezed his shoulders. “Hitoshi, I want you to walk me down the aisle at my wedding.”Shinsou’s eyes widened. “…W-What?”“Hizashi’s already claimed the role of best man, so I can’t really fight him on that, but…” he shrugged, surprised by the emotion building in his throat at the sight of Shinsou’s eyes clouding over with tears. “…you wanna give me away, you little brat?”He could tell Shinsou was trying hard to keep it together, and as soon as Aizawa gathered the kid into a hug, he fell apart, scarf muffling his nephew’s soft sob while he nodded enthusiastically. Aizawa held him harder, mindful not to crush the bouquet of flowers between them. He rubbed soothingly at his back and placed a kiss upon his temple before drawing back to dry the kid’s cheeks. Shinsou sniffled. “Fuck… that means I actually have to attend the dumb thing, doesn’t it?”Aizawa laughed and shoved him toward the door. “Go.”Shinsou cast him one last thankful smile, the words not needing to be said, and disappeared with bouquet in hand.Aizawa beelined for the elevator the moment the flower shop was locked, Hizashi’s messages ringing like a mourning bell in his ears. Yagi had seemed to terribly off as of late, so distant and quiet, and having it mixed with his apparently degrading health send a wedge of grief and worry cutting through the center of Aizawa’s heart. Yagi had never been ill in the year that they were together, so Aizawa couldn’t begin to imagine what his one remaining lung endured at the touch of a simple chest cold. His coughs always sounded so rough and rattled from behind that bathroom door, yet each time he returned to bed and nestled up against Aizawa’s side, he dismissed every concerned question with a smile. Nothing’s wrong. Don’t worry. It’s just a cold.It made Aizawa feel like he was standing on the other side of a glass wall, fully able to see the issue yet not being allowed to get close enough to help.It killed him, the helplessness he felt when Yagi kept him at arms length over something as simple as this.Aizawa threw open the apartment door the moment he reached it, and found Yagi hunched over the kitchen counter with his head bowed, a mug of tea steaming in his hands. Upon hearing the approach of footsteps, Yagi looked up. His skin had lost its color, his cheeks seemed hollower, his eyes sunken, and yet he offered Aizawa the softest, weakest smile he’d ever seen.“Hey, sweetheart…” he breathed.But, Aizawa couldn’t hear him. Not when his eyes were trained on the blood spattered across the white collar of his shirt.Yagi visibly watched the color drain from Aizawa’s face and knew right then that he was fucked.“Toshinori…” his fiancé breathed. “Oh, God… you’re bleeding.”Yagi clenched his eyes shut and dropped his head again, knuckles whitening around the scalding hot mug in his hands. His throat felt clogged and thick, his legs barely holding his weight up. His tongue tasted like a slice of raw liver in his mouth, heavy with iron, heavy with blood. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.“Toshinori,” Aizawa’s voice was firmer, louder, as though trying to snap him out of a trance. But it shook, it shook with fear and the sound of it cut right into Yagi’s soul. “Toshinori, what the fuck is going on?”“This isn’t a cold.”Aizawa lingered in the threshold of the kitchen, too far from his reach. “What… what do you mean?”Yagi lifted his eyes. “The accident I told you about? The one that left me scarred, and caused me to lose one of my lungs?” He smiled mirthlessly and rubbed at the center of his chest, over two very different kinds of aches. “Well, the other one isn’t doing so good.”Aizawa stepped forward, then, right into his space. He reached for Yagi, reached out and placed both hands upon his chest, fingers curling into the bloodstained fabric. Yagi folded his own hands over them, seeking out the cool press of his beloved’s engagement ring. His breathing stuttered, pain seeping through every inhale.“It happens every so often…” Yagi whispered, because he could speak no louder than that. “Every few years, I have a flare up. The scar tissue gets irritated sometimes, and I need to take some pills and puff from an inhaler to soothe it. It happened again and the doctor ensured me it was just—”“Doctor?” Aizawa’s brows furrowed. “When did you go see a doctor?”Yagi swallowed, bracing himself. “Three weeks ago.”“Three weeks?!” Aizawa tore his hands out of Yagi’s grip, staggering back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”“I thought it was nothing.”“Nothing?!” Aizawa threw his arms out. “Your one functioning major respiratory organ starts fucking up and you say it’s nothing?!”Yagi winced. “Shouta…”“Why didn’t you tell me, Toshi?” Aizawa’s face fell, tears springing into his eyes, a mix of fury and frustration and fear. “Why didn’t you let me know this was happening?”“I didn’t want to worry you, sweetheart,” Yagi slumped against the counter. “I’m going to be your husband,” Aizawa bit out, a tear falling free. “I’m supposed to worry. If you’re in pain, if you’re suffering, I’m supposed to know. So I can help you. So I can heal you. So I can hurt with you if there’s nothing more that can be done.”“I don’t want you hurting…”“Too fucking bad. I’m marrying you, and I’m going to do my job as your husband. In sickness and in health. That’s the fucking rule.”“Would you have even agreed to marry me had you known?” Yagi snapped back, and the sudden bark of his voice sent another spark of pain crackling up his throat. He clutched his chest, prompting Aizawa to rush forward and grab his wrist. The contact made tears spring into his eyes. “…Would you have even wanted some broken, crippled old man?” He added weakly. “Would you have kissed me that morning when it rained? Or let me make love to you, knowing what you know now?”Aizawa gaped at him. “You… fucking idiot.”Yagi blinked.“You’re the stupidest, stubbornest, most infuriating…” Aizawa covered his face with one hand, teeth gritting. “How fucking dare you assume I would turn you away because of what happened to you. You think I’d stop loving you because of a broken lung? Are you kidding me?!”Yagi felt his shoulders tremble, and he broke down, sobbing wretchedly as Aizawa gathered his face into his hands and drew him close. He tucked himself against his beloved, face pressed into the crook of his neck, feeling safe and terrified all at once while his one remaining lung struggling beneath his ribs. Every pull of air was a nightmare. The blood rose high in his throat. “I love you…” Aizawa growled, fingers clutching the back of his shirt. “When you dropped to one knee and asked me to be your husband, you said you were offering yourself as you were. And I took it. I took you, Toshinori, just the way you are, because I love you, you absolute fucking moron, and that’s not going to change.”“I’m broken,” Yagi whimpered, breath rattling. “I’m broken and frail and incomplete.”“And that’s what I’m here for, sunflower. To put you back together, to fill in your cracks.” Aizawa gently touched the scar on his side. “And I’m going to marry the fuck out of you in October to prove that.”It was all too much. The relief, the release, mingled with the scalding worry that something was terribly, terribly wrong.“Sh-Shouta…” the room was spinning, and he clung harder to the younger man. “It hurts.”Before Aizawa could draw back to question him, Yagi crumpled to the kitchen floor with a fit of rattling coughs, blood spattering across the younger man’s dark shirt as he dropped. His body heaved, strength wrung out of his muscles. “Toshi!” Aizawa cried out, grabbing him, hovering over him with shaking hands and widened eyes. “Oh God, baby… Oh God, hang on… Hang on, I’m calling an ambulance.”Blood oozed thickly from his lips. The room teetered, his vision darkened at the edges.Weakly, he reached for Aizawa, but his hand fell before any contact was made.“Toshi!”He couldn’t breathe.He couldn’t breathe…Aizawa made the unfortunate mistake of burning through an entire pack of cigarettes in less than an hour after arriving, which only made the stale hospital coffee taste burnt and sour on his tongue. Still, his trembling hands clutched onto the Styrofoam cup like a lifeline, sipping deeply, nerves frayed to the point of snapping. Fingers raking back through his hair, he passed his weary eyes over the wall clock for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Four hours. Yagi had been gone for four hours, wheeled through those swinging hospital doors on a gurney, and Aizawa could do nothing more but keep himself from clawing his own fucking skin off.He fiddled with the black tungsten ring on his finger and noted only then that there was a faint little crack already forming along the band, revealing a hair-thin sliver of gold. The sight of it made his heart tumble into his stomach. The tears fell hard, but silent, and he dropped his head into his hands and let the wave of emotion pass through his exhausted body.A hand settled on his hair, making him jump.Hizashi stood above him with a proper cup of coffee from some overpriced café down the block and a soft, sympathetic smile. Aizawa fell apart.Dropping down on the chair beside him, Hizashi swept him into his arms and held tight. Aizawa clenched his eyes against the tears, not wanting to stain his best friends hideously loud silk shirt but knew Hizashi couldn’t care less if he did. Long, nimble hands rubbed soothing circles over his back while the others pushed the coffee into Aizawa’s trembling fingers. Dark roast, extra sugar. Just how he needed it.“You smell like an ashtray, Sho.”“Thanks,” Aizawa murmured with a sniffle.“And you look like hell.”“So many compliments, I’m blushing.”Hizashi’s green eyes were bloodshot behind the tinted glasses he wore. “I called Nemuri and she’ll be over as soon as she can. You know how she drives.”“She’s gonna kill someone.”Hizashi laughed and sipped from his own mug. It smelled strongly of hazelnuts and was unquestionably decaffeinated. The guy had enough trouble sleeping as it was. Too much music in his head, he always stated, but Aizawa really knew he was just a damn workaholic that couldn’t bear his own bed when Nemuri wasn’t there warming it.Aizawa assumed a fifteen-year mutual crush would have resulted in his two closest friends being more than just fuck buddies, but then again… they were as awful at relationships as he was.Hizashi glanced up at the clock. “They give you anymore news, yet?”Aizawa shook his head, fiddling with the paper sleeve around the cup he held. “Not for the last three hours. Last I heard, they were rushing Toshi into surgery. Something about a severe tear in the scar tissue on his bronchus.”“Shit…”“I feel like my skeleton is going to crawl out of my body,” Aizawa rubbed at his upper arms and slouched back, eyes turning toward the pale ceiling tiles. He clenched his jaw. “Why didn’t the idiot say something sooner? Why did he keep this from me?”“Probably because it makes him feel like a burden,” Hizashi frowned. “Which is ridiculous.”“Fucking ridiculous.”“But…” Hizashi shrugged. “You gotta realize the guy’s been dealin’ with this nonsense with his lung alone for… ever, really. You’re his first real, true, long-term relationship, Sho. He’s never had to let anyone see this side of him, behind the ink and the charm and the city-wide fame. Like how you struggled so hard to show him the real you when you first met. I think he’s dealin’ with the same thing. Imagining how you’d react to all this medical nonsense most likely scared the shit out of the poor guy.”Aizawa swallowed, recalling Yagi’s words in the kitchen that afternoon.
Would you have even agreed to marry me, had you known?
“Look at you and your sage advice,” Aizawa grunted. “I’m a master of romance.”“And yet you still can’t ask Nemuri on a date.”Hizashi choked on his coffee. The waiting room doors swung open before either of them could get another word out, sending Aizawa shooting to his feet. The doctor that emerged was a tiny speck of a woman, her bowed back bent over a silver cane, her gray hair thrown up in a pristine little knot atop her head. She was old, far older than Aizawa expected, and regarded him with soft, intelligent eyes framed by crow’s feet. “Mr. Aizawa, yes?” She asked.He nodded, throat clenching. He felt Hizashi press close from behind, their fingers locking in a supportive squeeze. “I’m Doctor Chiyo Shuzenji,” she extended her hand, and Aizawa had to physically bend in order to clasp and shake it. Her grip was strong, despite her size. “I take it you’re the patient’s next of kin?”“I’m his fiancé,” Aizawa murmured. She nodded. “You were lucky you brought him in when you did. The tear in the scar tissue on his bronchial branch was extensive, and his lung collapsed on the table. He would have drowned in his own blood had he arrived any later.”Aizawa suddenly felt Hizashi’s hand on the small of his back, settling him. Did he sway? He must have swayed. “The surgery was a success, however, and he is resting now,” she continued. “It’s going to be a slow recovery, but your fiancé will recover all the same. He’ll be just fine.”“Oh God…” Aizawa covered his face with one shaking hand and slumped back against Hizashi’s chest. “Oh, thank God.”“We’re keeping him on oxygen for a few days, which he will wane off slowly as his lung heals. Assuming all remains stable, he should return home in about two weeks, and will need an exceptionally strict recovery regimen.” She tapped the butt of her cane against the sleek linoleum. “Bed rest, hourly medications, zero physical strain and stress. We’ll provide you with a portable oxygen tank to take with you, should he require it, and will ask that he return for monthly checkups, even after he’s been cleared. We don’t want this happening again. He only has one lung left, and I’d prefer it if he kept it.”Aizawa nodded through it all, tears springing fresh in his eyes. “Can I… Can I see him?”When she gave him the room number, he all but took off like a bullet through those hospital doors, tearing through the recovery wing. Yagi’s room was located immediately to his left around the corner at the end of the stark white corridor, small and private with a window that overlooked the gardens just outside the hospital where patients often strolled with their families. Aizawa paused in the doorway, fingers digging sharply into the wood while the other hand cradled the coffee Hizashi had brought him to his chest. “Oh…” he breathed. “Sunflower.”Yagi looked fragile upon that bed, like a mere gust of wind would carry him away. He had always been willowy, had always been slightly too lean, all sharp angles and endless limbs, but he had never looked as he did now. Like he was made of glass and paper and teetering precariously on the edge. Blonde hair hung limply around a weathered face, and he was shirtless, with clean white bindings wrapped over his chest where they had cracked it wide open to get to his failing lung. There would undoubtedly be more scars. More interruptions to the tattoos inked along his torso. Aizawa would be sure to run his hands and mouth along every single one of them once they were healed, to map out the route that had saved Yagi’s life. Slowly, he approached the bed, eyes roaming over the tangle of tubes and wires connecting his fiancé to the machines blipping and pinging at his bedside. Monitoring his vitals, his pulse, his breathing. Yagi’s chest rose and fell shallowly, each exhale amplified by the oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, despite the faint crease between his brows which indicated the pain he must have felt, even in rest. Gently, Aizawa leaned down and kissed at the crease, smoothing it out with his lips, while stroking tenderly at the top of his head. Yagi’s expression softened, just a little, just enough, and Aizawa choked back a relieved sob.Hizashi and Nemuri joined him not long after, offering soft words and companionship while Aizawa made a home for himself in the less-than comfortable chair at Yagi’s bedside, his lips glued to the backs of Yagi’s knuckles while his eyes followed the rise and fall of his chest, monitoring just as vigilantly as the humming equipment at his side. They remained that way for hours, letting the nurses and doctors come and go as they pleased, leaving only after Aizawa succumbed to his exhaustion and passed out slumped over the side of Yagi’s hospital bed. He rose with the gentle patter of spring rainfall battering the hospital windows and the feel of someone draping a soft blanket over the backs of his shoulders. Aizawa didn’t acknowledge his nephew, not immediately, opting first to watch him sleepily through the curtain of his hair as Shinsou rounded the bed and took a soft, private moment for himself to reach down and give Yagi’s hand a squeeze. There was love, there, so much of it. Quiet and unspoken. A boy and the man who would soon be named his uncle, the man who welcomed him into his home and his life without question, who fed him and teased him and laughed along with his awful jokes. Almost as if he felt his uncle’s eyes on him, Shinsou released Yagi’s hand and swallowed. “He gonna be okay?”Aizawa could only nod.“Good,” Shinsou cleared his throat. “That’s… that’s good.”“Did you want to stay?” Aizawa asked groggily, head pounding, room teetering somewhat as he righted himself into a sitting position after so many hours slouched over. He recognized the blanket around his shoulders as one from his apartment. The one Yagi often slept with on the couch. It smelled like safety, like home. “I have class, but is it cool if I come by afterward?” Shinsou asked and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “I can bring food.”“Of course.”“Can I also bring Denki? He… he heard about what happened and just wants to pop over with some flowers or something.”Aizawa smiled, warmth fluttering through the hollowness in his chest that had been carved out by fear. “Absolutely.”Once left alone, once the morning nurse had made her rounds and checked Yagi’s vitals with a reassuring smile, Aizawa took it upon himself to climb upon the bed and nestle against his fiancé’s side. He was mindful of the wires, of the IV tube, and curled himself carefully upon the starchy white pillow, easing Yagi’s head down to settle against his shoulder as the blanket was thrown over them both. For the longest time, he just laid there, gaze thoughtfully trained on the garden just outside the windows, on the plants bowing and trembling beneath the assault of warm spring rain. Aizawa made a soft sound, a hitch in his breath, when at last he noticed the flowers that grew just outside of Yagi’s window, their half-open buds familiar, traces of blush pink peeking through those early spring petals. They leaned against the glass, pressing, aching to get inside. Peonies. The unexpected idea struck him without warning, moving to simmer at the back of his mind. A nagging thought, an insistent voice prodding at the inside of his skull, always there. It would take some planning, but he would bring it to light. He would find a way.The softest sensation of a pinky brushed against the back of his hand, followed by a weak voice.“Still want to marry me?”Aizawa’s heart clenched, and he looked down into a pair of tearful eyes as blue as cornflowers in the summer, and shakily spoke the words he would repeat in October, a proclamation for the world to know.“I do.”Two months later, Aizawa and Hizashi stood outside of ALMIGHTY INK with umbrella in hand, watching the taxi roll to a stop before them on the rain-slickened streets. The early summer evening was warm, scenting heavily of ozone and sunbaked pavement. Hizashi moved forward, angling the umbrella just enough to shield the familiar face that appeared the moment the taxi door popped open. There came an unkempt head of brown hair, followed by slate blue eyes behind sharp glasses, and tattoos that peeked out from beneath a crisp blue button-down. “Glad you could make it,” Aizawa said, which Hizashi promptly translated into American English. David Shield smiled softly at him and reached out to clasp his hand in a firm shake. The touch meant everything after weeks and weeks of careful planning over Skype behind Yagi’s back with Hizashi at his side to provide translations to them both.David peered up at the front of Yagi’s shop and whistled low. “Been a long time since I’ve been back here. Does he have any clue?”Aizawa shook his head.“Good,” David yanked his suitcase from the taxi trunk and dragged it through the shop’s open front door.Inside, emptiness greeted them, the shop having remained closed during most of Yagi’s recovery. He had only been able to start taking clients again recently, and only once every other day, so as not to place too much strain upon his body. He’d hated it, of course, growing stir-crazy and starved for work again. Aizawa practically had to mother the man, scolding Yagi if he caught him exerting himself a little too much. It was entirely out of love, of course, the constant pestering. Making sure every pill was taken on time, every doctor’s appointment was scheduled. Aizawa even made most of the suppers, nowadays, unless Yagi whined long enough for Aizawa to cave and allow him into the kitchen to prepare a simple meal for the two of them, wanting to feel useful again. Every night, after biting down his own touch-starved desires and insisting that Yagi’s body was not yet strong enough for the strain of sex, Aizawa fell asleep with his head on his scarred chest, repeating the words that became a sort of mantra between them in the two months since the hospital.“Breathe,” Aizawa would whisper, prompting Yagi to take a long, slow, steady inhale. Then he held it for one, two, three beats, and released just as slowly. “Pain level?”And Yagi would choose a number between one and ten while running his fingers back through Aizawa’s hair. It happened every night. And every night, the number would drop a little lower, a little closer to proper health.While David set himself up on Yagi’s work station, Aizawa shrugged out of the oversized t-shirt he’d stolen from his fiancé’s closet, one that depicted fat black cats with pink hearts for noses sitting inside an oversized muffin tin. How the hell Yagi had concealed it from him all this time, he would never know, but Aizawa stole it the second it was held out to him by a pair of clever tattooed hands. Shirtless, he straddled the leather client chair beside David while Hizashi remained close. “He’s gonna lose his shit when he sees this, you know that right?” His best friend smirked. Aizawa smiled softly to himself. David slid his chair a little closer and held out the sketch he’d been working on since Aizawa had first planned their meetup. The sight of it made his throat tighten, the sweeping movement of it, the detail in David’s signature pointillism style that matched the cherry blossom branches crawling up Yagi’s left arm. Even David, with all his understanding of the man they both loved in two different, yet incredible ways, had a veil of emotion in his deep-set eyes.“Perfect,” Aizawa breathed, and there was no need for a translation before David got to work.When Yagi stepped out of the shower that night, he felt no pain. His lung took in the damp, steamy air of the bathroom without protest, ribcage swelling with a long, heady, indulgent inhale that neither stung nor left the tang of blood on the back of his throat. Warm rivulets of water ran down his chest from his soaked hair, trailing over the long, vicious scar that marred him right down the middle, interrupting the delicate patterning of the hennya masks tattooed there. Not that he minded. Much as he hated to admit it, all of Aizawa’s insufferable mother-henning had worked.He ate more frequently, now, as his pills required the consumption of food in order to be taken, allowing him to put on the slightest bit of weight over the last two months. Not enough to drastically change his appearance, but Yagi had definitely noticed a slight difference in the mirror each night. His cheeks seemed less gaunt, his chest a little bulkier, his thighs a tad thicker. He looked healthier, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed, though that could have merely been a result of the attention Aizawa lavished him with at every opportune time. All those scalp massages and back rubs in front of the laptop as they browsed wedding venues and honeymoon locations, hot mugs of coffee and tea whenever he wished. He’d never before been so heavily doted to. Though, he supposed this is what not suffering alone was supposed to feel like.Yagi had never known it before. Chose to avoid it, to deprive himself of long-term relationships out of fear of being rejected for the weakness of his own body. He’d martyred himself for decades because a voice in his head made him believe that he was undeserving of love unless he was perfect. He made certain to let Aizawa known what a dumbass he’d been, murmuring soft apologies against his throat every night while they drifted off to sleep. “Sorry I suck…” he’d breathe, prompting his beloved, his fiancé, to hold him that much tighter.As if on cue, he heard a flirtatious whistle from behind him, a catcall that had his head whipping around. Aizawa was leaned against the bathroom door, arms folded over his chest as he took in the sight of Yagi in nothing but a towel. The soft heat simmering in those onyx eyes made his insides curl. Two months of not being allowed to fuck this man was going to kill him faster than his broken lung would. “Hello, gorgeous,” Aizawa purred.“Hey, yourself,” Yagi smirked and reached for his fiancé, wanting him close. Wanting to breathe in the smell of his hair and feel the warmth of his skin. “Where’ve you been all day?”Aizawa sunk into his embrace with ease, nosing at Yagi’s clavicle before leaning up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to the spotted koi tattooed on the side of his neck. “Mm… Cheating on you.”“Har har.”“It’s true,” Aizawa leaned back just enough to peer up at him through his dark bangs. “You wouldn’t believe how far this guy travelled just to get my damn shirt off. His hands were all over me for hours. Left a pretty intense mark on my shoulder, too. It might never come off.”Yagi’s brows furrowed, humor drifting from his expression. “Uh…” Aizawa, however, was all smiles. “Wanna see?”Before he could get another word in, Aizawa pulled himself from Yagi’s grip and peeled that damn novelty cat shirt right off his body. Lo and behold, there was something on the curve of his right shoulder. Something bound in layers of crinkled plastic wrap and sealed off at all sides with strips of black tape. He could faintly make out dark shapes beneath it, but it was too distorted to see.Yagi blinked. “Did you… get a tattoo?”“Maybe,” Aizawa looked at him from over his shoulder. He wasn’t entirely sure why it was that his hands trembled as he reached for a strip of black tape. Anticipation, perhaps. Maybe a little jealousy. Yagi would have been downright lying to himself if he said he was totally fine with another artist leaving their mark on Aizawa. Which was foolish. He was foolish. Foolish and touch-starved and so desperately in love that he leaned down and pressed sweet kisses long the patches of skin revealed beneath each strip he pulled off. He brushed Aizawa’s dark hair aside and nipped at his neck, right below the shell of his ear, making the younger man tremble and arc against him. “Stop your teasing,” Aizawa scolded, perhaps a touch breathlessly. “Can’t help it,” Yagi whispered.Slowly, carefully, Yagi peeled back the plastic wrapping, knowing full well how sensitive the skin beneath it would be. His heart stopped.His breath hitched.He just… stared.There, over the sweeping curve of Aizawa’s left shoulder, creeping down toward his bicep, was a cluster of magnificent blooming peonies. So delicate, each flower faintly flushed by spots of the lightest blush pink imaginable, like watercolor bleeding into each petal. And the linework… wasn’t linework at all. It was pointillism. And it perfectly matched what the accident had destroyed. “Y-You…” Yagi covered his mouth with one hand, eyes burning with tears he tried desperately to hold back. In those soft petals, those familiar blooms, he saw his mother. He saw the vases of peonies on the kitchen table he always did his homework on. He saw the curve of her smile, the dark sweep of her hair. He saw a soft spring morning filled with the sound of her laughter as she chased him through the gardens.And he saw David. His best friend, his supportive crutch when his world with her had crumbled too soon beneath him. He saw the arm that curled around his shoulder on the evening he stood over his mother’s grave for the first time, a bouquet of peonies hanging limply from his hand. He saw the strength of their bond in each signature speckle of ink, their inside jokes, their brotherhood that healed him. Yagi saw two of the most important people in his life forever inked on the body of the man he loved.Noting his silence, Aizawa turned to look at him, wary, terrified. “…Do you like it?”Yagi clenched his eyes shut, forcing the tears that had beaded upon his lashes to tumble down across his cheeks. He could do nothing but nod, sob muffled beneath the hand held over his mouth. He felt Aizawa turn, felt those hands lift to settle on the sides of his face and draw him down into a long, searing kiss that tasted of salt and joy and sorrow and mourning and such profound, overwhelming love. “What made you do this?” Yagi whispered against his lips, shivering as Aizawa thumbed his cheeks dry. Aizawa smiled softly and touched the scar on his side. “To give back to you what you lost. To show you that no matter how broken you think you are, I’m here to complete you, my sunflower.”Yagi kissed him again, harder, deeper. “I love you…” he murmured between kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, and I cannot wait to fucking marry the shit out of you, Shouta Aizawa.”“How poetic,” Aizawa chuckled, teeth sinking into Yagi’s lower lip. “And ditto.”Aizawa allowed Yagi to shove him back against the counter, the melding of their tongues singing with a quiet heat threatening to blaze forth and consume them both. Yagi growled into the kiss, heart surging, fingers digging bruises into the curve of those delicious, sinful hips. He needed to be inside of him. He needed to bend Aizawa over the marble and sink into his heat from behind. But as always, the younger man drew back before it went too far, thumb tracing along Yagi’s lower lip as he whined in protest.“Shh…” Aizawa’s eyes were hazy. Yagi’s mind cleared just enough for a question to push forth. “Wait,” he frowned. “How’d you find someone to mimic David’s style so well?”“Who said anything about it being mimicked?”Yagi leaned back, eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t make sense. You couldn’t have gone to New York.”Aizawa just smirked.The wheels clicked in Yagi’s head. “Shouta… Is David…?”“In a hotel two streets over. I flew him down to spend a few weeks as a surprise to you, since your recovery has kept you from attending your annual trip to America this year,” Aizawa shrugged, like he hadn’t just offered Yagi the entire world on a gilded platter.
“He’ll be over tomorrow morning at nine to take you out to breakfast.”Yagi slumped against his shoulder. “God… Marry me.”“That’s the plan.”“It is, isn’t it?” Yagi smiled bashfully, turning his head just enough to meet that gaze. “We’re getting married.”Aizawa nodded and wiggled his left hand, letting the tungsten ring crackled through with gold glimmer in the bathroom lighting. “Four months.”“Four months.”“Which reminds me, we have our suit fitting with Hizashi and Shinsou on Friday,” Aizawa stated as he traced fingers over the tattoos running down Yagi’s arm, making him shiver. “David can come too, being your best man and all, and then we have our meeting with the baker for our cake tasting immediately afterward.”“My vote is still for the lemon cake,” Yagi said. “The one with the strawberry cream.”“It’s going to be chocolate or I’m divorcing you.”Yagi cracked up laughing and sunk his teeth into the dip between Aizawa’s neck and shoulder, mindful not to irritate the nearby inflamed skin with his touch. Aizawa gasped long and sumptuous in return, his body arching forward into his. “Kitten…” Yagi pulled out the pet name only ever spoken in the bedroom, making Aizawa whimper, especially as it was exhaled hotly against the shell of his ear. “I need you.”Aizawa looped his arms around Yagi’s neck. “I was thinking we’d hold off until the wedding night.”Yagi’s eyes widened. “Don’t you fucking dare say that.”“Why not? We made it this far already.”“Shouta, if I have to spend another four months without fucking you, I’m going to shatter your pelvis before we even reach the reception.”Aizawa laughed softly and let one of his hands trail downward, tracing slowly over the freshly healed scar running through the center of Yagi’s chest. His smile faded, eyes growing distant, contemplative, and Yagi leaned in to nudge their noses together, prompting the younger man to tilt his head just enough to kiss him sweetly.“I’m okay, sweetheart…” Yagi whispered reassuringly. Swallowing, Aizawa moved to lay his head against Yagi’s bare chest. A familiar routine. “Breathe.”Yagi did, inhaling deeply, slowly, as the younger man listened to his lung. Then he held the air behind his ribcage for those three moments, hearing Aizawa counting quietly against his skin, and released. “Pain level?” Aizawa looked up at him.Yagi smiled. “Zero.”“Honestly?”“Honestly, my love.”Aizawa nodded once and leaned up to capture his mouth in a startling kiss that robbed him of all the breath he’d just taken. “Take off your towel and go lay on the bed. I’m in control tonight, and I’m going to gently ride your cock until you can no longer think straight.”Yagi had never run so fast in his life.They chose the eleventh of October in an outdoor garden that shimmered that perfect shade of gold in the crisp afternoon light. The sky was clear, the breeze chill and scented of autumn’s sweet decay, as dozens gathered together on white chairs situated in a perfect semi-circle sliced down the middle to make room for an aisle dotted in sunflower petals. Yagi wore pale gray. Aizawa wore deep black. There were peonies in each of their lapel pockets and tears stained upon their cheeks. David cried softly. Shinsou cried hard. Hizashi and Nemuri were practically inconsolable. There was laughter in their vows. Laughter that had Yagi keeling over and slapping his knee with the one hand that wasn’t gripping onto Aizawa’s. Laughter that had Aizawa covering his face and cracking up tearfully in the way that so few had ever heard. Their hands shook as the rings were exchanged, rings the opposite of what they had presented each other with on that chilly March afternoon in the hallway outside their apartment, Aizawa now in gold, Yagi now in black. Their voices trembled as the words of eternal love and devotion tumbled from their mouths, promising trust and support, even when the world seemed its bleakest. It wasn’t perfect. It didn’t have to be, because neither of them were. And that was okay.Their kiss was shattering, a desperate collision of mouths until Aizawa took it upon himself to bend Yagi backward in a dramatic dip, tasting his chuckle while their loved ones cheered and whistled around them.The reception took place in a glass pavilion at the center of the garden at sundown, so the rich sherbet light could filter through the surrounding trees in dappled trails that set the sunflowers on every table ablaze. Their cake was simple and white and topped with edible gum paste flowers. Chocolate, of course, with strawberry cream that clung to Aizawa’s nose when Yagi pushed his face into it. Hizashi took plenty of photos of course, the bastard. When it came time for the first dance, they chose a simple song. Something classic, Western, the same song Yagi loved to sway with him to on late nights in their living room, sock-footed and sleepy-eyed, without a care in the world. Aizawa slipped into his embrace just as easily as he did on those nights, not minding the eyes, the cameras, focused only on the blazing blue gaze of his husband.His husband…Throat clogged with emotion, so much goddamn emotion, Aizawa laid his head on Yagi’s chest and listened to the thrum of his heartbeat and the gentle purr of his voice singing along as they swayed.“Breathe,” Aizawa whispered.And Yagi did, deep and slow, in and out. Their routine, their mantra. “Pain level?”“Zero.”Aizawa lifted his head and smiled, a tear falling free. “Happiness level?”Yagi smiled right back and leaned down to capture his mouth in a kiss made of sunlight and stars.“Infinite.”