Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Asahi nudged his key into the lock. Biting his tongue in concentration, he rotated it ever so slowly in the mechanism until it clicked. Now came the tricky part - pushing the door open without making it creak. Because it did that, a lot, especially if you just wrenched it open.

So Asahi just had to do it slowly, right, with feeling, like, like that, noiselessly, elegantly, like a thief in the night, which he totally was not since he fucking paid rent for this place, God. This was so stupid, Chinh and Vlatka were probably out for lunch, anyway, so this was a total-

"Asahi, is that you?!"

Motherf...

Apparently caught before he could even get past the threshold, Asahi opened the door to their studio.

And revealed was Chinh, staring at him in all her tiny glory. She flung a piece of chiffon at him, which. Was a little surprising?

"How dare you show your face around here?!" she huffed.

Uh.

"You promised not to come in on your day off! Go home! Get smashed during the day like a normal person!"

Oh.

"Please, uh, relax?" Asahi tried, hands raised in appeasement. "I'm just here to pick up a notebook, then I'll-"

"And what do you need that notebook for?" she asked, eyes squinted in suspicion. Shit. "If this turns out to be some stuff for Fashion Week or whatever, I'll wring your fucking neck."

Asahi stared at her. "That. Seems rather extreme?"

Chinh huffed again, stooped down to snatch up the piece of chiffon, which had fluttered to the floor.

"Do I look like I care? I don't think it's extreme, and I happen to be the one who gets to pick up your break down call at 3am and listen to your ugly crying. On a fucking Saturday."

Asahi cringed, because. He had done that, hadn't he.

"I, I'm sorry," he sputtered, and dear God, he was. "But I am resting, and. I just need that notebook to look at some sketches I did in there, so-"

"So what you're telling me is this is indeed a work thing, and you are not resting at all. Gotcha."

Asahi sputtered. "No, that notebook is just, like, for the underwear thing? Just lace patterns and cuts, so it's, it's not really, I mean, I could see how you'd say that's work, but it's not, I swear, at least for right now, I mean, I'd like it to be work at some point, but right now, I just, I mean..."

Asahi's mouth clicked shut, because what was his point again?

Standing in the hallway without giving him a single inch, Chinh stared holes into his face. Asahi fiddled with his cuffs.

Then, suddenly, miraculously, Chinh deflated. "Just that gay thing, yeah? The doodles and stuff, just that?"

Asahi couldn't nod fast enough. "Yes, just the sketches for, for the gay thing."

"You're not gonna, like, send a bunch of emails? Not gonna peek at your inbox?"

Asahi whipped three fingers into the air. "Scout's honor."

"You didn't even go to the scouts," Chinh mumbled, but gestured for him to enter the studio.

Asahi... could hardly believe his luck. This was a test, right? That would end with the door slamming in his face as soon as he crossed the threshold? The police being called? A swarm of wasps being released on him somehow, from somewhere?

Chinh raised a chiseled brow at him.

"I have long since accepted the fact that you're gonna work yourself into an early grave, okay? But if you're just gonna fucking stand there and waste my time, I'll-"

"Thank you!" he blurted and scurried inside, making a beeline for his little corner of their studio.

As he passed Vlatka's office, her voice sounded over the whirr of her sewing machine. "Go home, Asahi."

How did these two have him figured out so well? His steps quickened. "I will! Just picking something up!"

Once inside his office work studio thing, Asahi headed over to his desk. Scraps of paper and cloth, designs and constructions approved and discarded littered every inch of the wood. It. Was a mess. He tried not to look at it too closely. Which was pretty difficult when you considered the part where he had to sort through all this stuff to find that sketch pad.

He could do this, though. With his eyes raised towards the ceiling, rooting through the mess blindly. That was bound to work.

After a few swipes, his fingers brushed over a soft piece of mesh. It felt familiar. And it was really just an involuntary reaction when he looked down, really, just seeing what his fingers had encountered, right, that was, yeah,really.

The mesh, it. It was the lilac one, for Private Policy. The one that shimmered in teal when the light hit it just right. It was beautiful. Even after seeing it for weeks on end, Asahi still thought so. Playful. Childish maybe, which wasn't bad! There was also that sweater with a bear woven into it in Haoran's collection, so it wasn't like the label was above a certain edge of weirdness. But. Now that Asahi saw it again. Maybe the mesh kinda clashed with the cotton blend of the dress it went with? Pulling the design in a direction it wasn't supposed to go. Some sort of. Mermaid fantasy land instead of the original Aphrodithe inspiration?

Maybe. Maybe Haoran would know. He, he could just. Just write...

Before that thought could manifest in his brain, Asahi sucked in a breath and held it. And held it.

This was stupid. He was being stupid, Haoran did know, as she had told him during their phone calls, and Zoom calls, and email correspondence, and what had her opinion been then? That she liked this, exactly as it was, the lilac and the mesh fabric, his suggestions and his design, all of that. That she loved it, and was really so glad that they'd asked him to consult on their collection and help with the tailoring. They, they even wanted to ask him for his help for Fashion Week.

When his lungs started to compress, Asahi released the breath.

Chinh really was right. He was his worst enemy in this.

Okay. He, he'd just get this stupid notebook and bolt out of here. And. Do what people who were on vacation apparently did and drink to excess in broad daylight. Yeah, that was what he was gonna do.

Erratically, Asahi sweeped his hands through the pile of brain vomit until his pinky snagged on something hard. Oh, thank God. He fished the thing out, confirmed with a peek that it was indeed his notebook and fled.

Pressing the sketchbook against his chest, he tossed a "See you next week!" into their studio.

The only reply he got was another "Asahi, go home," from Vlatka. This time, it kinda made him snort a little.

Again, he quickened his steps until he'd crossed the studio's threshold a second time. When his steps echoed off the staircase, he did breathe a little easier, truth be told.

He made his way down the stairs, thoughts tumbling in his head. So. Where could he go for that day drink? Well, to almost any street corner, really. But most of the bars in SoHo were so uppity and fancy that they broke the budget Asahi could branch off for a drink or two. The Toad Hall, maybe? That one was the opposite of fancy. Also very straight. Which Asahi could live with, but if he was going to doodle around in his sketch pad while slurping on a cocktail, he'd preferably do it somewhere with nice lighting and without a TV screaming about some football match nobody cared about.

Asahi blew a wisp of hair away from his nose. Maybe he'd just walk up to Christopher Street, where the gay bars were plentiful and flourishing. The weather was quite nice today, after all.

Just as he reached the second floor, the double doors of the Beefcake Factory opened. Two women exited the gym, giving him polite smiles. Asahi returned them in kind, but was more focused on the closing gym doors. Maybe Tanaka was working today? He was usually up for a drink at any time of the day, and with him, Asahi could even brave the cringe that were straight bars.

Tanaka was, in fact, working today. Unfortunately, he was also in the midst of screaming with somebody about the improved definition of their rectus something something, which meant he was still working.

Pity. Asahi would have to settle for drinking by himself, huddled away in a booth and buried in his sketchbook. There were worse things, at least.

The two gym ladies shoved the door open and walked out onto Spring Street. Asahi slipped out behind them, nearly kicked the backpack of somebody lurking on the steps to the building. People were forever hanging out on that piece of concrete, it seemed. Asahi didn't really have a problem with that, though it would be nice if some consideration was given to anybody who wanted to enter or leave the building.

Well. Judging by the absolutely crestfallen expression of the backpack's owner, they had other issues to deal with. Asahi decided to be gracious and forgive them their rudeness.

As he climbed down the steps, he. Kind of slowed down. There was... there was something. Something tugging at his brain. Weak, but insistent all the same.

He glanced down at the person crouching on the stair. A guy, supposedly. Didn't... Didn't Asahi know him? There was something familiar in the cut of his chin, the curve of his nose. That bleached bang on his forehead, which was frankly a little ridiculous.

Oh God, now he'd already shuffled down to the last step of the stairs! Awkwardly, Asahi fiddled around with his notebook, pretending to have had a sudden flash of inspiration while stealing glances at the guy.

Where could he have met him? Somewhere around here, at work? A colleague, maybe? Not a model, he was probably too short for that. Maybe. A designer? His eyes flitted over the guy's clothes. Well, his choice in today's wardrobe told Asahi that this man had no sense of fashion, but maybe he was just having an off day.

Had Asahi even talked to him before? He had no memory of his voice whatsoever. But. He did of the guy's face. Several, actually. On, on a beach?

It dropped from the bright blue sky and into Asahi's head right that second.

This, this was Tanaka's friend! The one that was traveling around, like, everywhere! Nishi... Nishi-something? Asahi had never met him, but Tanaka had shown him some of his pictures, even told him an anecdote or two. Something about this guy eating a jellyfish on a dare? Or a starfish?

Satisfied, Asahi closed his notebook. They didn't really know each other, so it would probably be weird for him to start a conversation out of nowhere.

He climbed down the last step, eyes still caught on the guy's face. He. Really did look pretty miserable. Rather crushed, in fact. Like he might burst into tears any second now.

Asahi pressed his lips together. This was Tanaka's friend. His best friend, even, if the rambling retellings about this guy's antics could be believed. Asahi himself didn't share a friendship like that with Tanaka. They'd only met each other a year ago, when they'd started their business in the upstairs studio, and Tanaka had just started talking in Japanese to him while carrying his dressform up the steps like it was nothing. They'd bonded over some shared experiences as New Yorkers who had emigrated from Japan, even from the same prefecture. They saw each other frequently, had lunch together, sometimes drinks, but Asahi didn’t know where Tanaka lived, had never even met his wife.

So he had no obligation here. Nobody would fault him for just pretending he'd never recognized this guy and going on his merry way.

Except that Tanaka was still a friend, if not a close one, and Asahi cared about him, which also included making sure that the people Tanaka was close with were not having a nervous breakdown in front of their shared doorstep, so Asahi opened his mouth and offered in polite Japanese, "Excuse me?"

The guy blinked down at the phone he was so gloomily staring at. Then he looked up at Asahi, visibly making an effort to pull himself together. He wasn't very successful at it.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Do you... need anything? Do you need any help?"

The guy blinked again. "Uh, no. I'm okay, thanks."

Asahi swallowed. How had he already made this awkward?

"I'm sorry," he sputtered, "It's just, you seem like. There's something bothering you."

After a moment, the guy replied, "Yeah, uh. I'm fine." Asahi's monumental disbelief must have shown on his face, because he added, "Okay, maybe not really, but. No offense, but it's not anything you could help me with, so."

"Oh," Asahi said.

They looked at each other. The last thing Asahi wanted to do was barge into something that wasn't his business, but. This guy did look pretty sad. And Asahi had a grainy image somewhere of what his face looked like with his arm thrown around Tanaka at some vineyard on the west coast, all lit and dazzling.

Giving it his last shot, Asahi said, "You are friends with Tanaka, right? Tanaka Ryuunosuke?"

Some light seemed to return to the guy's face. "Yeah, I am," he replied. "You know him?"

Before Asahi could so much as open his mouth, the guy shouted, "Oh! You're designer dude!"

Well. "I... might be?"

"Like, you work upstairs from the gym, right? In a studio with a couple other designers or something?"

Asahi nodded. "Yeah, that's right."

The guy's grin packed something of a sucker punch that hit Asahi right in the ribs.

"Cool!" he replied, hopping off the stairs and inclining his head. "I'm Nishinoya Yuu, nice to meet you!"

For some reason, this pulled a smile up on Asahi's face. He inclined his head in kind and said, "Azumane Asahi, nice to meet you, too."

When he'd raised his head again, Nishinoya was eyeing him up and down. Finally, he said, "You really are huge. You sure you're, like, all authentic Japanese?"

Asahi snorted. "Pretty sure. I'm actually from Miyagi, too."

"Really? Where exactly?"

"Osato. It's near Sendai."

"Oho! Fancy city boy, you. No wonder you ended up here!"

Asahi sputtered a little before getting his bearings. Was this Nishinoya making fun of him? In a... sort of offensive yet weirdly endearing way?

"Uh, yeah? I, I guess, uhm. But you're also here. And Tanaka, too, and you're from a more rural part, right?"

Nishinoya nodded. "Yeah, we were basically surrounded by rice paddies."

Asahi smiled down at him. Time to make his move.

"It's actually my day off today," he blurted, "Would you, are you free to share a beer or something?"

Nishinoya positively screamed, "Sure!"

Well. That had been easier than expected.

Asahi watched him yank his backpack off the ground and added, "And maybe you can tell me what got you so down? If, if you want to, of course!"

Noya stared at him before his face broke out into a grin. The funny thing was it really... did that? Like, the delight seemed to literally erupt from him, flashed in his eyes first before it spilled down to his cheeks and mouth. It was quite... fetching.

"Azumane-San, you're more cunning than you look!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, uh. Thanks?" he replied as they started walking. "And please call me Asahi."

Years of literally everyone calling him by his first name had deadened Asahi's sense of propriety.

The smile on Nishinoya's face told him he was familiar with that feeling. "Sure, if you call me Noya," he offered.

They exchanged another smile before walking. To. Somewhere.

"Uh, where should we go?" Asahi asked.

Noya shrugged. "Somewhere that serves beer? I'm up for anything."

The Toad Hall flashed into Asahi's mind, but now. He kind of didn't want to go there anymore.

"There's an Italian place nearby," he suggested, "It's nice! Uh, it's a little on the expensive side, though. So maybe a little much for just a beer, uhm. I don't know."

Inwardly, he cringed. For being a fashion designer in New York and all, Asahi felt pretty lame most of the time.

Nishinoya hummed. "Sounds good, actually. We could just skip the beer and go straight to Negroni."

Asahi blinked at him. "What, what's that?"

Noya threw him a smirk, which turned out to be an even worse sucker punch than his grin.

"Don't worry, you'll find out."

Asahi did. Right on the Italian place's patio, which was lined with some nice shrubs blooming in a bright blue, it revealed itself to be a bittersweet mixture with not even one single non-alcoholic ingredient to find, if you discounted the decorative orange zest floating in the glass.

Asahi lowered the drink as the first sip washed down his throat.

"Jesus," he said in English, because it was really hard to resist picking up some popular phrases, not to mention that this one really warranted it, like, really.

"Good, eh?" Noya replied, grin almost splitting his face. "I'm telling you, this gets you shitfaced in, like, five seconds."

Asahi decided to seize the opportunity before he got too drunk off this Negroni to care anymore.

"Your issue got you so worked up you need to get drunk that quickly?"

Okay, now he kind of regretted saying that, seeing as how Noya deflated in his seat.

"Sort of, yeah," he sighed, swirling the ice cubes around in his drink.

Then, he looked at Asahi. Really, just looked. Didn't size him up or, or check him out, just looked at his face. Something about that made Asahi's face go all hot.

Suddenly, he asked, "Can I ask you a question?"

Asahi nodded, mouth a little dry.

"What kind of visa do you have?"

Oh. "Oh. Uh, I've got a green card, actually."

"You do?" Noya said, staring at him, unblinking.

"Yeah," Asahi replied. "I got it. I think three years ago?"

At Noya's non-reaction, he continued, "Uhm, I originally came here on a student visa when I was doing my master's. Then I got a job at Ralph Lauren and could stay on an H... uh, H-1B visa, I think. But that one only extends up to six years, and by that point, I already knew I wanted to stay here. So I asked the HR department if the company could back me during a green card process, and. They actually did."

"Holy shit," Noya mumbled. "And they didn't, like. Chain you to them for the rest of your life to work off the costs and stuff?"

"They did, for a while. They gave me a contract that would have made me pay all of the fees retroactively if I'd leave for another job during the next few years."

"Hot damn," Noya said, also in English.

Asahi snorted a little into his drink, his exhale spinning the orange zest among the ice cubes. "Well, it's common practice for companies to have those kinds of stipulations with green card workers. Or so I was told."

Noya hummed. "I don't know, man. Still sounds harsh."

Well. It had definitely been harsh, working for the swim wear department of RL as a green card applicant. Of course, he'd made some really valuable experiences there, and he was incredibly grateful to them for supporting him. He still remembered Ye-Jun, back then the head designer of his department, basically bullying the board into approving the process.

He also remembered suffering his first nervous breakdown there. Bent over an opened box at his tiny tailoring bench at four in the morning, grinding the drawstrings for next season's swimming trunks between his fingers as if that would magically make them longer. Not to mention how close he'd come to developing an addiction to Adderall. At some point, it just seemed so natural, like a logical conclusion. You didn't go home to sleep, anyway, so instead of having the sixth cup of coffee, why shouldn't you pop a pill or two? It was safer than taking anything off the street, and that one client strategist with the kid suffering from ADHD needed the money, So.

Harsh seemed like an apt description, at least on the bad days.

Asahi tilted his head a little to the side and ventured a guess, "Does your employer not want to back your application for a green card?"

Noya blew out a sigh so big that it lifted the bleached wisp of hair from his forehead just as a waitress came by and put a small basket of sliced bread on the table. Asahi thanked her from the bottom of his heart. He hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, so this Negroni was already corroding his inhibitions with frightening speed.

"I wish that was my situation, honestly," Noya sighed.

Asahi waved his hand at him, prompting him to continue.

Noya seemed to consider for a moment, before he gave in. "Okay, so. I have an employer. Like, several actually. I'm doing small odd jobs, like I'm a bike courier, and a dog sitter, and, uh. I work at a bagel place sometimes."

Asahi nodded. "And none of those places want to hire you on a permanent basis?"

"No." After a moment's hesitation, Noya blurted, "I also don't have any contracts with any of them, so. Yeah."

"Oh," Asahi said. Illegal employment did make it rather difficult to apply for a green card.

"But that wasn't really the direction I wanted to go in, anyway. I actually want to start my own thing here."

"Oh, really? What kind of business do you want to open?"

Noya's face lit up like a struck match. It was like before, such an exact depiction of the words that it was almost startling. Asahi wouldn't have been surprised to feel a wave of heat on his skin.

And then he ran off at the mouth, "I wanna start a travel agency! I've literally been everywhere, I- Wait, okay, I lied, I haven't been to the Poles, but! I've been to everywhere else. And, like, I know where to go, and what to do, and so many awesome people that have, like, their own farms where you can pet their cows and run with the geese, I mean!"

He gave Asahi that duh! expression as if he expected him to agree that yes, of course people would sell their last shirt only to cuddle smelly cattle and get chased by murderous birds.

He was very unsuccessful in smothering his giggles. Judging by the widening of his grin, Noya didn't seem offended, at least.

"And, and where is that farm? Exactly?" he felt he needed to ask. Just to be able to avoid it in the future.

"In Wales!" Noya replied. "On the Gower, super close to the sea. You wanna go? I'll make you a good price."

"No, I would literally prefer to do anything else but be enslaved by a pack of geese."

"Oh, you're more off a chill type of vacation guy, huh? I could get you to the Keys, that's basically right around the corner. I know a lady in Key Largo who sews boat canvasses. Or! If you don't like all that humidity, you could go to Greenland. There's a guy who's trying to breed bioluminescent shrimp."

Asahi blinked. "That's not a thing."

"Bioluminescence? It totally exists. Have you never heard of it?"

"No, I mean, yes, I, I have, but. A person trying to breed bioluminescent shrimp, that's not a thing, that can't be a thing."

Noya shrugged like biohacked, glow-in-the-dark crabs were no big deal. "I mean, I don't know if it's really possible, but the guy sure is trying. He fishes for shrimp, so he figures that could make his job easier, you know."

Asahi blinked at him again.

Noya blinked back, then whipped out his phone.

He showed Asahi a collection of pictures capturing a bunch of aquariums and pools in a basement. A middle-aged man tinkering with a microscope and some computers. Shrimp being lifted towards the sunshine streaming in through a window and squinted at by the same man. Who wore a really cute pair of glasses, it must be said.

Asahi hummed through the slideshow of shrimp pictures. "And what is he going to do when he succeeds? I mean, it's probably illegal to just release glowing crabs into the sea?"

Noya shrugged his shoulders. "Probably. I don't think he's planned that far ahead."

The next picture showed the man smiling at Noya's camera, scratching the chin of a cat curled on his newspaper.

"He seems nice," Asahi commented.

Noya's eyes darted from his phone to Asahi's face. They had both leant over the table a little to look at the pictures, so Asahi could basically feel the explosion of breath on his chin when Noya shouted at him, "Exactly!"

So there was a point Noya was trying to make? But Asahi didn't get it, and, and also Noya was really quite pretty? With such a delicate nose and wide eyes, but also handsome, a striking jaw, masculine cut to his lips, and, maybe even a little bit gor-

"That's, like, the essence of traveling, you know," Noya continued while Asahi tried to herd his awhirl thoughts together. "I mean, of course you travel to see all of these amazing places. The nature, and the sights, but. What actually sticks to you the most are the people you meet. Who they were, how they lived, the food they share with you. Those interactions really stay, they're what makes the experience so great, they're gonna be what you tell your friends and family about when you get back. Sometimes you even become friends and stay in touch although you're super far apart!"

Asahi should probably stop staring, but he couldn't. He was hypnotized. By Noya, his face and his words, his smile, his utterly brilliant eyes. At least he had enough presence of mind to murmur, "Uh-huh," when Noya looked at him expectantly.

"Yeah! The people you meet are, like, the most interesting thing about this, so I was like, why not put up an agency that connects you with an awesome person, who's actually gonna show you their country and its culture, rather than just visit a place?"

"Oh," Asahi mumbled, "So. Something like a travel agency dating site."

"Oh my God, yes!" Noya cried. He looked delighted enough to plant one on Asahi right then and there. And well. Well.

"See! You completely got it!" Noya exclaimed before his voice sank down to a whine. "Man, I wish you would have gone to Chase with me. We would have totally convinced that financing guy that this is, like, the best business idea since prostitution."

Asahi twisted his mouth in sympathy. "They didn't want to give you a loan, huh?"

"More, like, laughed me straight outta the bank," Noya sighed. "I don't even need a lot, you know. Just something to live off of while I quit all these side gigs." After a pause, he added, "Except the dog sitting. Those dogs are too adorable to quit."

Asahi sipped on his drink. He glanced over the rim at Noya's form, weighed down with misery and sunken deep into his seat.

With a sigh, Noya poked at one of the blue blossoms leaning over its jardinière. "Well, without that money I can't apply for a business green card. I'm supposed to show them that this thing is capable of actually succeeding, and my kick-ass idea wasn't enough to convince them that it would. They were also real suspicious of my unstable income. Guess that didn't help."

Yeah, that really was kinda suspicious. "What if you get a full-time job with an actual contract and all? Maybe you'll even be able to save enough money on your own."

"Yeah, that might work," Noya replied. "But. I'm kinda hard-pressed for time. My visa is running out soon."

There was something in the way he said that, with a hesitant twist, that made Asahi put down his glass on the table.

"How soon?" he asked.

"Like, two days soon."

Asahi was silent. Two days. That, that wasn't. Well. That was actually no time at all.

He pressed his thumb against the glass, squashing a drop of condensation against the decorative cuts. There was something seeping down his chest, too, but that, it was stupid, so Asahi should just ignore it. Instead, he blurted an entirely useless platitude. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I mean. Me, too," Noya sighed. He was a little too aggressive in his fiddling, making the blue blossom shed its petals all over their table.

"It's fine, though, you know," he continued, "Like, I'll just go back to Miyagi for a bit and stay with my family. Find something new to do or. Whatever, maybe work in an izakaya. It's not like I'm gonna be destitute or without. Shelter, you know."

Asahi nodded. That was good, that Noya would still have a place to stay. Great that he was on good terms with his family.

Quickly, he took a sip from his drink. The bitterness of the Negroni blended with the one already saturating Asahi's mouth, which, really? His pitifulness had sailed to new heights. God, this was just so laughable, all of this wasn't even about him.

Asahi licked his lips, some meaningless trifle gathering on his tongue.

Thank God Noya intercepted all of that with a simple "I just-"

He broke off as the rest of his breath left his mouth in a huff. Asahi pressed his lips together.

"I just. I really wanted to stay here? I know I could do the same thing in Japan, or Canada, or France, but. I really fucking like it here. And I've never really wanted to stay anywhere before, like, really stay, and I don't know."

He threw Asahi a look bordering on desperation. "The other day I saw a pigeon trying to defend a piece of bread from a rat, but it wouldn't leave until another pair of pigeons came and started having sex right there. It was awesome."

Asahi snorted helplessly. "Of course, I mean. Who doesn't enjoy watching vermin procreate."

Noya's lips quirked a little, but didn't quite reach a smile as he raised his glass. "Yeah. To the horny pests of NYC."

They touched their glasses together in honor of all the city's disgusting creatures.

The clinking sounded high and clear in the air as their eyes caught on each other, seemed to fade into a quiet hum. Asahi felt his nerves start to flutter under Noya's gaze. Better choke himself on his drink than to start fidgeting.

But it wasn't just the gaze, was it? This tableau was so familiar to Asahi that it almost dragged nostalgia at its heels. But in those scenes, it had been him slouched in Noya's seat.

"I, uh. I think I understand a little how you feel," Asahi mumbled, hardly knowing what blurted from his lips.

"Yeah?" Noya answered.

He tilted his head to the side, flicked his chin at Asahi in an invitation to elaborate, but Asahi, he.

He thought of that seat. Telling a friend, a colleague about his plans to stay here. In this city that had felt like home from the moment he'd sank down on the fire escape stairs with a pizza that was so expensive he'd asked the cashier three times for the price. The stairs had been freezing, the pizza piping hot, and the city luminous like a fireworks display. He'd sat there, wide-eyed, equally thrilled and terrified by whatever his future in this city could be. The promise glistening in the street lights so tangible that Asahi'd thought he might snatch it right out of the cold night air.

He thought of how he'd tried to convey this to the other person, the need to try and make it work here. And every single one of those others, with absolute nonchalance saying. Saying those exact words

"We could get married."

Noya's brows didn't even so much as twitch. It was kinda impressive.

"Huh?" he asked.

"I, we. We could get married. Since I got permanent citizenship, you'd be able to apply for it, too. And then you could stay. Here."

"Well," Noya said without any sort of tone, like he was just saying it for the sake of saying something. "Well, I mean. I mean, I. I, I, okay. Okay, wait. Not in two days. I mean, right? You can't just get married in two days. This is not fucking Las Vegas. I mean. Right?"

Oh.

Asahi said the only thing he could to that, which was "Uh..."

His intelligent remark tapered off into nothing. They looked at each other.

The transparently hopeful face shining at him from the other side of the table seemed to make the words just pour from Asahi. "Maybe? We, we could just look online. See if it's possible, and then we can see, like. Whether. Whether that could be an option. For you."

Noya continued staring at him. Was that normal? Because, because Asahi had been there. He'd had something close to eleven green card proposals before he'd been able to start the process with RL. Every time, he'd been stunned, maybe inappropriately flattered, but he'd always caught himself and declined.

Which wasn't to say that Asahi wanted Noya to decline. Of, of course, his proposal had been 100% genuine. It had felt almost as if. As if he owed that? Since so many people had been so mind blowingly nice to even offer to marry his ugly mug, it felt like it was something of. Of a responsibility. To give something back. Make that proposal to somebody else who was in this exact same spot he'd been in. Like. Repaying good karma. That, that was what this was.

It had nothing to do with all that blood rushing to his head and pooling in his cheeks like heating oil when Noya's body broke out into another grin as he blurted, "Sure!"

He grabbed his glass and knocked down the rest of his drink. Dazed, Asahi watched as he pulled out a tattered purse and counted his money, grabbed his backpack.

"Yeah!" he said, squinting into the depths of his wallet. "Let's totally find out if we can get married in two days, sounds like a blast! I'm gonna handle this, and you can get us some beers or something, yeah? So we at least got something fun to do while we look at websites and shit. To find out if we can get married."

He suddenly barked a laugh again, tossed Asahi a look that was entirely made out of mischievous delight. "Let's fucking do this!"

"Yeah, I mean, yes," Asahi stammered and stumbled upwards.

Like a fish caught on the tip of a hook, he blundered into the adjacent liquor store. Didn't even have time to get embarrassed about buying alcohol while the sun was still up. Just fed the bottles to the open maw of Noya's backpack when he showed up next to him.

Back on the street again, they decided to utilize Asahi's work station at the shared studio for their research purposes. His apartment in Jackson Heights was too far away to be considered, and Noya's place was, according to him, a dump. So back down into the maw of the beast it was.

Noya chattered throughout the whole journey back to the point where they'd started, and Asahi was grateful for it. He could barely muster enough attention to keep himself from running into a garbage can. Honestly, who could blame him. He had just proposed to a guy he'd known for something like 30 minutes.

Which, it was, it was kind of. It was kind of exciting? Also utterly terrifying and not anything he ever saw himself doing, but. And also, it wasn't, like maybe they wouldn't be able to do it, anyway. Although Asahi would go through with it, of course, he was a man of his word and all, he just shouldn't get ahead of himself. They were just going to search around online. To see if they could get married in the next two days. That, it.

Shivers of thrill and chill chased each other up and down Asahi's spin as if he was waiting in line for a roller coaster. He almost felt a little dizzy once he opened the door to the studio, as they slunk past a very suspicious looking Chinh.

Horror engulfed his heart when they entered his studio corner. The mess! He’d totally forgotten about it, shit. And he had rummaged through everything not an hour earlier, worsening its general state. Lovely.

To his credit, Noya didn't even bat an eyelash. He just walked over to the cluttered desk, plonked his backpack on it, and pulled two bottles from its depth.

As he uncapped them with a key chain bottle opener, Asahi straightened his desk in record time and dragged a bean bag from somewhere. Unfortunately, the bean bag increased their height difference so dramatically that Noya wasn't able to see the screen of the laptop. So they decided to sit on the floor in front of the desk.

With the brick wall heating their backs, Noya banged his beer against Asahi's.

"To working internet connections," he said solemnly.

Asahi snorted. "Alright. To those."

They took a deep swig. The bitterness of the beer washed away the last sweet traces of the Negroni. Sitting so close, he could smell the traces of Noya's cologne. Uncomplicated, fresh. Was Asahi wearing something today? He couldn't remember, only that he'd almost forgotten his keys when the need to sketch had chased him out of his apartment. So, probably not.

He cleared his throat, opened his browser, and typed marriage New York City in the address bar. After a moment's hesitation, he added same sex.

They began to read in silence.

One hour later, Asahi stared at his reflection in their tiny bathroom mirror.

So. So, yeah, they could.

They could. Get married.

After a 24 hour waiting period, which meant that if they went to the City Clerk, like, right now and found an officiant to hold the wedding the next day, they. Could get married. Like, there was the Alien Relative green card application, and the fees, and the fucking falsified rent contract that his landlady had instantly promised to send him when he hadn't even so much as hinted to adding another person to his contract during a call, which felt all kinds of wrong to Asahi, but. They could get married.

They could literally do it. Right now.

And he'd seen the question, the hidden plea in Noya's eyes once that understanding had seeped into them. And then he'd fled to the bathroom before Noya could even voice it.

Mechanically, Asahi turned on the faucet and washed his hands. Again.

The thing was. He'd promised. Well, he hadn't promised, actually, just said that they could look into this and see how it shook out, but. It had been his suggestion, and going back on that now felt like an asshole thing to do. As if he'd gotten Noya's hopes up just to smash them into the ground again.

But. But. Married. To a literal stranger. For which they had to forge documents to make it seem real, which was fucking illegal. That. Didn't seem like an Asahi thing to do at all. Didn't feel like an Asahi thing, what, what would his mom say? His sister?

Asahi stared down at his hands. He'd frothed up the soap so much he could hardly see them anymore. Slowly, he turned on the faucet, let the water run over his skin, watched the suds wash down into the drain.

Then again. Moving a whole ocean away to finish his degree hadn't felt like an Asahi thing, either. Until he'd done it, and then it had felt right. Liberating. Exactly like the thing that needed to be done. It had been the same with the green card application, and then again when he'd quit to become a freelance designer. That feeling of absolute terror right up until the moment it was done. The peace, afterwards.

And this, this was just a business transaction. They didn't even need to live together, although it would make their marriage much more believable if they did. There wasn't, there weren't any emotions attached to this at all. Not, like, Asahi couldn't date anybody. No restrictions, for the both of them. Yeah.

So. It didn't cost him anything. Noya said he would cover all the fees, which. Might not be saying much, seeing as how Asahi had only known him for two hours. Maybe. Maybe this wasn't even real. Maybe Noya was a scam artist and would strip Asahi of every penny he possessed, although wasn't he Tanaka's friend and wouldn't Tanaka know about that? He didn't seem like the kind of person who'd have friends like that, just.

Fuck. Fuck, Asahi was getting nowhere with this, it, it was fucking crazy, he'd just have to go back and tell Noya sorry, so sorry, but this was kinda a lot, and he'd just have to start his business in his parents' spare bedroom surrounded by rice paddies, yeah, just, it was a lot, sorry.

Asahi dried his hands, again, and left the bathroom.

He found Noya looking through some photographs, likely unearthed from his mess of a work space.

Asahi wandered closer, heart almost knocking his teeth out it pounded so furiously. But whatever, he, he just couldn't do this, and maybe that made him an asshole, but he just couldn't keep getting swept up in other people's business and trying to fix things he couldn't, even Suga had told him that, and sometimes he was right about things, and this was one of those times, probably.

Once he was close enough, his eyes dropped down to the photos Noya was examining.

His heart froze. Only for a few moments, then it resumed its previous pounding, and he wasn't even sure why, he wasn't even embarrassed about this, it was just a thing he'd like to do, and not even a terribly remarkable or original thing, just. It was really gay and kinda important to him?

All too soon, he'd crept up to Noya's side. He'd just turned his attention to the next photo, stared at it intently.

"Where did you even find this guy?" Noya wondered. "He could totally be, like, a Russian villain from one of those cold war movies. You know, from the 80's? I mean, look at that jaw."

He even pointed at it, as if Asahi wasn't standing right next to him.

"That, that's one of Vlatka's friends. My other colleague," he replied.

Noya hummed. They both stared at the picture.

Finally, Noya commented, "That lace fits him super well, like. The color and all."

Asahi choked a bit on his own spit before he could stammer, "T-thank you, I, I think so, too."

"So you made that? The others, too?" Noya asked, wagging the stack of photos he was holding.

"Yes. It, it's somewhat of a pet project, actually."

Noya hummed again, flipped to another picture. This one showed one of the few friends Asahi had made at university. A glass of whisky was sweating in his hand as Antonio lounged on a sofa, gaze caught by something outside the frame. He was dressed simple, just the midnight-blue bra and brief set with matching thigh-highs.

Asahi couldn’t help but think that God, the lace on the set was still absolutely stunning. Those gorgeous shades of blue, woven together to create the most intricate pattern of interlacing peacock feathers. Hehad the sudden urge to dig it out from somewhere on his clothes rail and run his fingers over it again, the lace was just that phenomenal. Didn't he have some more of it lying around somewhere? There was probably enough left to match it to the elastic top of the stockings. It would probably look amazing. But then he could probably really forget including this set in the lookbook, because it would be so fucking time-consuming to create all this, even if he was able to set this off as a bespoke tailoring business, which was-

"It's all lingerie? For men?" Noya asked, tearing Asahi right down to earth.

"Yes, yes, it is, uhm, I," he started, although he should really stop, because it was still fizzing in him, and he tended to run his mouth something awful when it fizzed, "I don't know if you've seen what's out there for, for men? But it's basically lingerie for women just. Made flat. It's not terribly flattering or works with the male shape, so. I wanted to do that. Uhm, I, I also like the contrast of the male body and the soft fabrics and patterns? I don't know, I think it can be really beautiful, so. So..."

Asahi's mouth finally fell shut. This, this had been okay. Had that been okay? He hadn't started ranting about how playfulness and vulnerability should be a human right, so. Probably it had been okay?

"I actually didn't know there was anything out there," Noya replied diplomatically. "Only ever saw the kinky stuff. The ones that have buckles and leather straps all over, you know."

Asahi swallowed. "Yeah, I mean, there's not much, but some lingerie shops offer a selection for men, too. But it's just the same things that they offer for women, so it's usually ill-fitting or. It's leather and jockstraps and nothing else, like you said."

Noya nodded, turned to another photo. This one was literally of the guy who worked at the pizza shop on the other end of the block. It had been Chinh's idea to ask him, since she'd claimed that his skin would look 'delectable' in the candy red mesh fabric. Which, honestly, it did. Though in Asahi's opinion, the snake embroidery coiling along the side of his chest and stomach was the real star of the show. It was simple, but packed such a quiet punch on the bodysuit. Very sensual, especially in that red lace. One of his favorites, really.

Noya was being quiet. Which was fine, he didn't need to, like, have an opinion. Although Asahi would very much like to know his opinion, was sort of on tenterhooks with anticipation about it, fingertips burning with the urge to fidget with his sleeves or his glasses or his hair, wasn't, wasn't Noya going to say anything?

"Uhm, I, I guess it's a little strange, it-"

Noya's eyes shot up from the pictures and caught Asahi's like flies in a trap. "This is beautiful."

It. It was?

"It's so pretty and hot, how did you come up with that?"

Asahi had to swallow down something in his throat before he could croak, "I, I mean, it's not anything new, at least in fashion or, or advertisement, I mean. It, This."

"Yeah, maybe, but I haven't seen anybody else do it."

Noya returned his gaze to the photos, flipped to another one. It showed a model dressed in a set in gold with a matching waspie. For some reason, it made Noya suck in a breath.

"This is some art right there," he declared.

Asahi snorted. "I, I mean-"

But Noya wouldn't let him get further than that.

His eyes whipped up to Asahi again, and this time it wasn't a punch or a burst, but a wave, flushing through Asahi's defenses until they were floating away like driftwood. There was something clogged in his throat again, but he had no attention for that, just for that smile, softening him, soaking him through until it touched something he hadn't even known he possessed and made it run so hot.

"Don't do that," Noya said, "This is beautiful, and it's art. This stuff is your art. And it's pretty as fuck."

The something in Asahi's throat grew tight, and he wanted to laugh so he wouldn't start crying, because how was it that a guy he met two hours ago could make him feel so seen?

Luckily, Asahi got his shit together just enough to neither cry nor laugh. He just swallowed instead.

And swallowed again, cleared his throat, breathed, and squeezed out, "M-maybe you're right."

Noya's face lit up into a smile, and Asahi was being swept away by a tidal wave.

"I totally am!" Noya agreed.

While Asahi was still adrift, he set the pictures down on his work desk again. Although, maybe, maybe they could look at some more, so Noya could share his opinions with him, and, and tell him how beautiful the things that sprung from his mind were, that, that sounded... pretty great.

But the expression on Noya's face sobered a bit when he turned back to Asahi.

"So I called Kiyoko," he began.

"Kiyoko?" Asahi whispered, mind still stuck on that part where he was apparently beautiful, although not him, his, his fashion, not him personally, Noya hadn't said that, God, Asahi should really get his breathing under control, shouldn't he?

"Yeah, Ryuu's wife," Noya continued, apparently oblivious to the disintegration of Asahi's sanity. "She's an officiant. Got certified to officiate for another couple last year? I think?"

Another couple as if they were one, as if, they, but they weren't-

"She said she had work tomorrow, but she works from home, so. We could go to their place, up to the rooftop, she said it's nice."

It took a while until Asahi had gathered enough pieces of his mind to put two and two together.

"We'd have a wedding officiant, then."

Noya nodded. "Yeah. So. We could fill out the application now, go get the Marriage License at the City Clerk, and Kiyoko could sign it for us tomorrow."

Asahi's heart skipped a beat.

This was the part where he would decline. Shatter Noya's dreams, but protect himself from, from exploitation? And. Something else? He. He just needed to open his mouth and, and say

"Sounds good."

Again, Noya nodded. "Yeah. I thought that sounded, uhm. Pretty, pretty convenient..."

He tapered off, staring at Asahi.

"Wait. So, so we're gonna do that. Like, fill out the application and. Get married," Noya said.

Asahi looked at him. He knew that he should say no, but. He couldn't. He simply couldn't, because for whatever reason he didn't want to say no, it, it was insane, he was insane, and this was completely fucking impossible.

So instead of shouting a million apologies while bolting for the hills, Asahi replied, "Yeah. Let's get married."

Something happened in him as the words left his mouth, something huge, and sparking, and burning, something that crept into every tiny crevice of his body and lit it on fire, but Asahi couldn't look to closely at it, it, was too much, he was just insane, yes, entirely batshit crazy.

"Okay," Noya whispered, "I mean, yeah, let's, let's," and then louder, "Like, for real? Like, truly, honestly?" and when Asahi jerked his head in a nod, even louder, "For fucking realsies, I, I, oh my God!"

He threw himself at Asahi's chest with lightning speed, wrapped his arms around whatever he could reach and squeezed.

"Oh my God!" he screamed into Asahi's sternum. "Are you fucking serious, I, oh my God!"

Asahi froze, twitched his arms around Noya's waist, but wait, he, maybe that was sorta inappropriate, since, since his hands would probably end up on his lower back, so maybe under his arms? But, but who even cared, they were going to get fucking married, because Asahi had apparently lost his mind together with his instinct for self-preservation, so fuck it, he could touch Noya's fucking lower back if he had to, right, right.

"Yes, uhm, I-" He heard himself, hand suspended in the air. "I'm serious."

And he was. Oh shit. Oh shit!

The vice grip of Noya's arms tightened around him. He rubbed his face against Asahi's chest and, sort of, whimpered?

"O-okay, oh shit, I, yes, yes, let's fill out that fuck shit form and, and roll into that office, like, fuck yeah!"

He gave Asahi another lung bruising, face squashing squeeze before his head shot up, and, oh, he, there were tears in Noya's eyes.

"Thank you, Asahi, this, thank you," he blurted, and that was somehow worth everything.

"Yes, s-sure," he choked in reply, hands twitching at his sides.

Noya slipped from his embrace and fished out his wallet. Was, was he going to, but, oh okay, he just got out his ID and visa and. Sat down on the floor again.

Asahi stared at him as he dragged the laptop over the floor boards and up on his thighs. Noya glanced up at Asahi again, eyes still slightly misty. He still seemed. Kinda out of it of sorts?

"Okay, let's, let's complete this application thingy, uhm," he mumbled.

Wordlessly, Asahi sank down next to him, plucked the laptop from Noya's trembling hands.

He suggested, "Why don't I fill this out, hm? You, you can just tell me the info we need, and I type it down, yeah?"

Quite honestly? The general state of his being wasn't much calmer than Noya's, but at least he wasn't on the verge of tears. Those made it difficult to see the screen, as he knew from experience.

Noya replied, "I, yes, okay, I..."

Suddenly, his hand curled over Asahi's wrist. It got him from shaking to petrified in under a second, right there on the floor, sitting criss-cross applesauce.

"Asahi, thank you. Just. I don't know, just. Thank you," Noya breathed.

It should've sounded weird. Even if Asahi was used to everyone here calling him that. And it was different, a Japanese guy calling him by his first name in Japanese. Asahi still tagged on the honorific when he talked to Tanaka, too. But now. It should be weird, but it just. Wasn't. So wasn't it weird that this was the only not weird thing about this?

Caught up in whatever the fuck was going on with him, he just gave Noya a smile and a nod.

Noya's hand squeezed, then slid from his wrist, and they started filling out the application.

There were delays. Like Tanaka at some point bursting into Asahi's studio, having apparently sprinted up the stairs after a phone call with his wife, bawling his eyes out, which, of course, set Noya off into a crying fit. Asahi had been too paralyzed to join them, buried up to his eyeballs in hugs and thankyous. Then there'd been that crushing moment of shock when they'd been unable to schedule an appointment at the City Clerk for today. As it turned out, every slot had already been booked. Which was when Tanaka revealed himself to be the biggest bullshitter ever during a phone call with an official. He fed them lines about a grandmother who was on her death bed and wanted nothing more than to see her grandson marry the love of his life after years of shaming him for being gay. A few times, they'd been sorta confused on whose grandmother was supposed to have been a raging homophobe, but Noya took that one home in the end.

Despite all that, their sob story opened all the gates for them, and they had their marriage license a little over 30 minutes later.

Asahi looked at the piece of paper in his hand. It was kinda hard to read with all the information cramped on there. The license part was at the bottom, where the official had approved the form, and further down was the certificate part, where the officiant and the witness had to sign. Above all that was his own signature. Like Noya, he'd signed his name using the English alphabet as well as the Japanese kanji. It had seemed more. Official? Somehow?

Noya tilted into his side and squinted at the paper.

"What's it say? 3... 3:57 p.m.?"

Asahi nodded. "Yeah."

"So 4 p.m. tomorrow I guess. At Ryuu's place?"

Asahi turned to look at him. Noya's eyes were so... intense. They flitted all over Asahi's face, looking for a wrinkled brow, a downturned corner of the mouth. There was none of that, though, at least nothing that Asahi could feel on his face or even his body. He was alright, felt fine. They were gonna do this, and that felt. Okay.

Oh, good. He'd really spiraled all the way down into madness now, wonderful.

Somehow, his lips still curled into a smile as Asahi said, "Sounds good."

Noya stared up at him.

"Thank you, you know," he said, for like the four hundredth time. "I mean, I feel like you don't even realize how much this means to me? That you're just doing this, I mean. It's kind of fucked up if you think about, but you're still. Here."

Well, that was an easy one. "I do know how much this means to you. You cried about it for ten minutes straight, remember?"

That pulled a snort from Noya. "Yeah, it was epic. Just, I don't know. We don't even really know each other, and you're still doing this. Like..."

His words ran dry, but he didn't even need to say anything, Asahi was actually on the same page with him there. They didn't really know each other. It was freaking him out how little he was freaking out over that. Maybe that Negroni had been laced with. With. Something.

But of course it hadn't been, Asahi was just acting like this Bizarro version of himself, because...

Because whatever.

Noya chose that moment to blurt, "Like, can I take you out to dinner?"

Asahi blinked down at him.

"I know we spent the last few hours together, but I don't know. Can I buy you dinner? To at least express some appreciation? Please?"

For his clarity of mind, Asahi should probably decline and go home. Go get some rest, drink some tea, wind down on his couch and think about how dramatically he had changed his entire life today on a single whim.

But, of course, Asahi had gone bonkers, so he just said, "Sure."

They ended up at the Italian place again. Upon their arrival, they realized that it wasn't even five yet, which resulted in Noya divulging the secrets of the Italian aperitivo to Asahi. Which was really just drinks before dinner with snacks? But no, Noya insisted there was much more to it, as he had found out one fine evening in Bologna when he had first been introduced to the art of the aperitivo at a bar and then had mistakenly broken into the adjacent Museum of Modern Art somehow.

From there, the story completely derailed, and Asahi never did find out what the magic touch of aperitivo was, but he also didn't care. Because Noya told him about working at a panzerotti shop in Milan next, so Asahi recounted his exchange trip there during his university days, and how much he did not understand this obsession with panzerotti. Noya jumped up immediately, offered him his hand over the table, and they shook on their mutual indifference towards that regional dish.

It just continued like that. They traded stories while sipping on something lemony with sparkling wine and feasting on different kinds of olives and bread. It tasted good, great even, and Asahi's drink had evaporated in mere minutes. But that was just the good company, really, because Noya was a breathtaking conversationalist, spun his stories for Asahi with his hands and eyes just as much as he did with his words, pulled chuckle after giggle after laugh from him, he, he could hardly keep his eyes off Noya.

Asahi's fingers twitched over the table, picked at those blue-colored petals, at crumbs of bread, threads in the table cloth, inched forward, and forward, just to retreat, because there was no reason to do that at all.

By the time they finally felt it was late enough to order dinner, Asahi was on his third sparkling drink, and this had been a mistake, a colossal fucking mistake. The worst thing was that he'd known, but apparently was just that much conceited that he thought he could just, like, what, will this away back into nothingness? But it was there, of course, all over him, in him, his tapping feet and flushed neck, his burning fingertips, his high-pitched giggle and pathetic need to make Noya laugh in turn, his heavy breath and his caught gaze, all of it just too fucking much, it, it should be dripping from him, actually, collect in a fucking puddle right where he was sitting for the waitress to slip on, although that wasn't even needed, because even she knew what the fuck was going on.

Asahi was falling in love, had been falling in love, had done nothing else but fall head over heels and hook over sinker in love with Noya all day.

He'd tried, okay, he'd tried to just pretend obliviousness, and ignore, and suppress, but that shit wasn't working, Noya was just too wonderful, too funny, and genuine, and mischievous, and gorgeous, God, so gorgeous that catching a glimpse of that wisp of a blonde bang was enough to send him off into heart palpitations, and now here they were, with Asahi trying to eat his pasta dish with one hand while the other was digging into his thigh to keep himself from lunging over the table and kiss Noya, suck those spaghetti right out of his mouth if he needed to, Asahi didn't care anymore, he just wanted to kiss him.

They were doomed. Well no, Asahi was doomed, since he was the one who had lost his heart to the man he would be trapped in a meaningless green card marriage with.

But. But, luckily, there was still time, right? He could still tell Noya that this was too much, after all, that he was scared of the potential consequences, the uncertainty, because they'd only known each other for what boiled down to the duration of a workshift, and wasn't that crazy? Just batshit fucking insane to decide to get married one hour after meeting each other?

The thought made Asahi almost choke himself on his tagliatelle, because. That had been all him, actually. He'd asked Noya that. After one single hour of meeting him, he'd offered Noya his hand in marriage.

Oh. Fuck. Oh. He. Asahi was in deep. Down through the ground, and the subway tracks, and the fossils, and the crust of the earth deep. Struck by love like a thunderbolt and burnt to a crisp in a single instance.

They finished off their dinner with a bitter herb thing, and Asahi said nothing. They joked about who was going to wear the dress tomorrow, and Asahi said nothing. They said their goodbyes on the sidewalk, Noya bestowing one tight, final hug on Asahi with eyes so lit they could have set fire to the oxygen between them, and. Asahi said nothing.

So, right now, once he was done looking after Noya's parting form, Asahi would just. Go home. Pick out an outfit for tomorrow, maybe, maybe see if he had something for Noya to wear, too. Drink some tea. Figure out where to buy that bouquet he'd promised Noya. Maybe try and see if he couldn't just stamp those feelings out by suppressing them even harder than before.

And then tomorrow, they'd get married. Sounded good.