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The sunlight was shining way too brightly in Kumon's eyes when he woke up. He put his hand up to shield his poor eyes from the harsh light, he was only getting older, and he didn't need any more help in going blind. As soon as he tried to pull the blanket downwards, he was met with a strong resistance in the form of his husband wrapping himself around him like a rubber band. He chuckled softly at Azami's death grip; he did say last night that he wanted to sleep in today.
"'Zami," he whispered into the morning air, "C'mon, I just wanna close the curtain." But the sentence was met with a groan and the death grip growing tighter. Slowly, he turned his body, so he was facing the obstacle in question and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Let go, please? I'll be right back. Promise." He made a noise of disapproval, but slowly removed his hands from Kumon's toned back.
He finally got up out of bed and passed by Azami's vanity on the way to the window. Kumon took a moment to examine his face. His husband complained about his stubble yesterday, but he thought it suited him just fine. It makes me look more manly , he had explained with a pout, but Azami was not having that. Shave it, or I'm shaving it myself in your sleep , he had said back.
Next to the vanity was Azami's calendar, full of important dates and reminders for the couple. Kumon's memory only got worse over the years, so his husband counted as his personal 'reminder to do things.' A big heart drawn in red marker caught his attention, and he smiled when he saw the date. October 16th. He may have had a bad memory, but there were a couple dates he didn't forget. His parents' birthdays, his brother's birthday, Azami's birthday, and most importantly…
"Happy anniversary, Kumon."
He turned to the direction of the voice, not expecting to see him awake. He lay there under the golden light shining through the window, reminding him of why he got up in the first place. To say he looked ethereal would be the understatement of the century. His black hair had only grown out a bit since he was young- he liked to keep a tidy appearance after all. Black locks framed his face messily as he draped himself with their shared blanket. A shiver racked his body when the curtains flew from a particularly strong gust of wind, despite being wrapped up in the blankets like a taco.
The image made him chuckle softly, "Happy anniversary."
Azami pouted, "Can you shut the window and the blinds?"
"I was getting there," he said. Swiftly he shut the window, blocking out the cool autumn breeze. Next was the beige curtains, and as soon as they were shut, he heard his husband sigh in relief. The darkness made its way into their shared room.
"Come back," Azami said with a huff.
Kumon rolled his eyes at his impatience but made his way back to bed. "Blanket hog."
It was Azami's turn to roll his eyes then. He unwrapped himself from the blanket cocoon and hung some of the blankets over Kumon. The other wasted no time in wrapping his arms around his husband again, making a content sound once his face was pressed up against Kumon's chest.
"So, what do you wanna do today?" Kumon asked.
"Sleep."
A light laugh escaped past his lips at the comment, "Really?"
Azami removed his face from his husband's pecs to give him his signature look, "We've had way too many of these damn anniversaries. Haven't we done all there is to do for this shit?"
"Fifteen is a pretty big deal."
"So was five. And ten. And all the other ones basically."
"I guess I should cancel the circus act I hired to come celebrate then."
"You mean the Mankai Company?"
Kumon released a hearty laugh at that and pressed a kiss to his husband's forehead. "I'm down with staying in today. It's been a while." Their schedule was typically busy, as expected of people working day jobs and still being active theatre company members. Plus, Azami managed Ginsenkai, which always kept his husband busy, much to Kumon's dismay. He couldn't count on two hands the number of times Azami had come home and passed out on the couch. He always felt bad waking him up afterward, but if Azami didn't do this nightly skincare routine before sleeping, he was extra grouchy the next morning. Kumon had learned that the hard way.
"You sure?" Azami's breathy morning voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Positive," he said. "C'mon, it's still early, let's go back to sleep." Azami didn't need to be told twice, it seemed. As soon as he felt Kumon's arms bring him closer to his chest, he fell into a peaceful slumber.
When Kumon awoke the second time that day, the bed was missing one person. He rubbed his eyes, and on instinct, went to check his phone. When he adjusted to his phone's brightness, he read 12:27PM. That's the moment the smell of fish wafted through the air. His stomach rumbled at the smell of delicious food.
That's also when his husband walked into their shared room with a cooking utensil in his hand. "Oh, you're up. I made breakfast." Mouth watering at the word 'breakfast,' he shot up immediately. "Hey, slow down. It's not going anywhere." But Kumon was thinking with his empty stomach and made a mad dash to their table, almost knocking into Azami and tripping over their dog in the process.
"Sorry, Fang!" he cried when he saw her brown eyes stare holes into Kumon.
"You almost killed our dog, asshole," Azami said, to which he made a sheepish face in return. His husband took a moment to give her a quick pet, some black fur shedding in the process. "Fang, c' mere," he said, opening the back door that led to their fenced-off yard. Azami expressed distaste in having the dog near the table when they were eating. Her fur gets in the damn food, he had explained. Kumon didn't object; after all, he still found a way to sneak her steak pieces when his husband wasn't looking.
"Let's eat!" he said, clapping his hands together once he kneeled down to sit. Azami sat across once Fang was successfully trapped in her backyard prison. "Mm, the fish tastes better than last time you made it!"
"Thanks," he grumbled with a mouthful of miso soup. Kumon chuckled to himself; after all those years, those yakuza manners of his only got worse. Fish bits decorated the side of his lips. Even then, he looked as gorgeous as ever.
"There a reason you're starin' at me?" Azami asked, snapping him out of his trance.
Kumon gave a toothy smile, then said, "You're beautiful."
The response got Kumon another eye roll, "Can't you wait to be sappy until after breakfast?"
"Nope," he said, popping the 'p.' "By the way, you have fish on your face."
Azami flushed before grabbing the nearest napkin and wiping his lips. "Asshole. Why didn't you tell me sooner? You always do that shit."
"Hehe, sorry."
His husband gave him the look, "No, you aren't." To which Kumon plopped a piece of fish into this mouth.
The conversation lulled after that. The birds outside sang loudly, but their peace was disturbed by a certain Fang barking at them. The mischievous action brought him back to when they first adopted the canine. The couple had been looking to adopt a pet after Kumon had begged his husband for months. He even offered to buy that overly expensive makeup palette for him in return. That was the thing that made him relent, but in the end, he didn't make Kumon buy him the palette. Azami really should've, considering the trouble the dog had put them through.
He remembered how his leg bounced in the car ride to the shelter. Azami kept giving him pointed glares from the driver's seat, but it did nothing to stop Kumon. He remembered looking through various cages of dogs, and they all made his heart swell. “Can't we take them all?” he asked his husband, but said husband was staring at a black dog with floppy ears who lay near the back wall of its cage. He remembered he ran over and said, “It's hiding in the shadows!” When Kumon got a closer look, the dog seemed anxious, tail between its legs. If dogs could frown, this one would have the deepest frown out of all the shelter dogs. The staff explained that she had been abused by her previous owners and that she would require a lot of TLC.
"Let's name her 'The Bringer of Darkness!" Kumon had exclaimed once they had brought her home.
"We are not naming our dog that."
Kumon frowned, "Then how about Gatekeeper of the Shadows! Shadow for short."
"No."
Kumon found himself smiling at the memory. It was hard to believe that they had just been two teenagers in the same theatre company at one point. If Kumon had never chased after his brother and Azami never ran away from home, the two never would've met. Yet, fate had brought them together. Fate had allowed them to wed fifteen years ago. Fate had allowed them to buy a house together. Fate had allowed them to make all those memories together. He felt his heart swell with emotion at the sight of his husband sitting across from him. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he had fish on the corner of his mouth again.
And then their wedding day came flashing into his mind like a motion picture. He remembered running a fever the night before because of how nervous he was. His brother looked after him with a stern face, but Kumon could read his brother like a book. He was worried about him.
He remembered standing under the arch, staring into his lover's beautiful green eyes. He glanced into the crowd and saw his parents and brother on the verge of tears. Muku was far past that point, not even bothering to hide his tears of happiness. On the other side was everyone from Ginsenkai. The rugged group tried to hold in their tears, but they weren't too far off from being like Muku. Next to Azami's father was Sakyo and Izumi, and he barely registered how tight Sakyo was squeezing his wife's hand. Remembering how happy they had been for the couple made his heart feel so full.
"The fuck are you smirkin for?"
Kumon smiled wider, "I was thinking about our wedding day." When he only hummed in response, he added, "Remember when you said we couldn't hold hands until marriage?"
"Oi, shut it. I was fifteen, and that's what shitty Sakyo told me," he said.
"Still funny."
"Yeah, yeah," he said, putting down the bowl of miso soup. "Remember I made you ask both my dad and the old man about taking me on a date?"
Kumon shivered at the memory of sitting down with his father in law. He was a burly man, and he looked down at him with judgment written all over his face. Still, he didn't object. "That was horrifying." And Azami laughed. Kumon still loved the sound.
"Can't believe you still wanted to date me after that. Any normal person would've ran the fuck away."
"I think we can agree I was anything but normal."
Azami's smile turned fond at those words. His eyes sparkled, and he looked at Kumon like he had the night Azami proposed. Full of love and security. He felt his eyes water, but he quickly wiped them on his hand. He told himself he wouldn't cry today.
"You done?" Azami asked, gesturing to the bowls. He nodded, handing them to Azami to put in the sink. As soon as he stood back up, he wrapped his arms around his stomach and rested his chin on his shoulder.
Mouth to Azami's ear, he whispered, "I love you."
"I love you too, idiot."
The giddy feeling he got from those words never went away. He squeezed tighter, "Thank you for everything."
Azami rested his hand where Kumon's was on his stomach, "You're gonna make me emotional."
"Join the club."
He huffed out a laugh, "I'm surprised you haven't cried yet."
"I almost did. Keyword, almost."
Another laugh. Kumon could listen to his laugh forever. He lifted his lover's baggy t-shirt and rubbed circles on his stomach. He felt Azami squirm under his touch, then asked, "Come lay with me?”
His cheeks hurt from smiling. "Of course." Azami took his hand and started leading them to what Kumon thought was going to be their bedroom, but they were in front of the bathroom.
"Uh, this is the bathroom?"
Azami leaned in, "Shave your stubble first. I'll be waiting on our bed."
Just when he had thought he had got out of it.