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It was Souji’s idea to eat out for once.
Tohru was in the middle of picking out a shirt when he caught Souji leaving their room with a blanket in hand.
“Are you gonna be cold at the restaurant?” He called.
“No,” Souji’s voice trailed from the kitchen, “But we’ll need something soft to sit on.”
Tohru buttoned up the last few buttons to his shirt as he followed Souji into the kitchen. The counter was covered in neatly backed bentos, each stuffed with food ranging from savory to sweet.
“You meant ‘eat out’ literally.”
Souji hummed. “Weather’s nice. We should take advantage of it.”
He wasn’t wrong. The trees lining the sidewalk below were dotted with pink petals, one of the early signs of spring. The clouds were beginning to part and disperse, leaving only the open blue sky behind.
Tohru sighed, a dramatic huff of air leaving his lips. “Fine, but only because you went to the trouble of making all this food.”
He felt warm lips peck his cheek and heard the smile in Souji’s voice as he said, “It’ll be worth it. Promise.”
There was a small, box-shaped weight in his coat’s inner pocket that guaranteed it.
The spot they picked out was a bit aways from the other couples and families who had the same bright idea to enjoy the weather. Under a rose-tinted grove of trees, Tohru spread out the thick blanket and Souji got to work unpacking the bentos. A mouth-watering spread of food right in front of their eyes, complete with a warm thermos of tea; Tohru could hardly keep his hands to himself.
Souji held a bit of pork belly between his chopsticks up to Tohru’s mouth, who took a grateful bite.
“Y’know,” said Tohru after he swallowed, “this was one of your better ideas.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely. This beats sitting in some stuffy restaurant.”
Souji fed him a bit of julienned carrots, watching him munch away with a smile. The breeze was cool, the sun high, baby pink petals floated onto the green grass around them, and Tohru happily chatted away as he dug into the food. Everything couldn’t have been more perfect.
And yet.
Souji itched to reach into his coat pocket and just— just ask, right then and there, “ Tohru, will you make me the happiest man alive and—”
His mind came to a screeching halt, heart racing a mile a minute. It couldn’t be that easy. Nothing with Tohru was easy. Not that Souji was any better, what with his difficult parents and complicated feelings towards them and their lack of involvement in anything he did, but Tohru was so… fragile. Almost like a rabbit that Souji was afraid would run off into the woods if he moved too quickly.
There were so many reasons they should wait. Souji had barely begun his career. His parents didn’t know (or care) about their relationship. They hadn’t even been living together that long. Their routine was nice— simple. He knew Tohru liked simple. Changing things would ruin that simplicity.
But Tohru’s mouth was full of pork cutlet, glasses perched high on his nose, hair barely brushed through, and there was a breadcrumb by the corner of his lips that Souji itched to wipe away. Tohru was saying something in between bites, smiling behind his hand as he complimented Souji’s cooking, something about the crispiness of the cutlet and the tang of the dipping sauce, something about how he liked this dish the best when it was made by Souji.
And he looked happy .
Souji knew they should wait. But he also knew he wanted to see him eat his cooking every day. He wanted to see his bed head every morning. He wanted to hear him complain about work in the evenings and kiss away the stress every night.
Patience be damned. Souji allowed himself to be selfish— just this once.
“Tohru,” said Souji, “will you marry me?”
The man froze mid-chew, mouth full of katsu and bread and sliced cabbage. His voice was muffled by the food in his mouth. “Whuh?”
Souji grasped his wrists because his hands were busy clutching onto the katsu sandwich tight. “Marry me, Tohru.”
“Right here?”
“Anywhere. A chapel, our home—the Junes parking lot, if that’s what you want.”
Tohru’s face was flushed a bright pink, cheeks still full of food. Despite this, he still managed to look annoyed. “This isn’t funny, Souji.”
“Would I joke about this?”
He was frowning deeply, now. He wriggled out of Souji’s grasp, finally finishing his bite and swallowing it down. “I dunno, you have a pretty crap sense of humor sometimes.”
“Adachi-san,” said Souji, reaching into his inner coat pocket to pull out a small velvet box, “I mean it. Marry me.”
The frown dropped from Tohru’s face. His features softened for a moment, mouth going slack and eyes widening at the sight of the box in Souji’s hand.
“How— How long have you…” The moment of shock was brief. Tohru was quick to snap back into a defensive pose, knitting his eyebrows together and twisting his mouth into a half-hearted scowl purely out of habit. This was his default face when dealing with affection. A face Souji could never get enough of. A face he loved being the cause of. “How long have you been…”
“Around a month,” confessed Souji, “I wanted to wait for the right moment.”
In all honesty, he would have been carrying this ring around since they first started dating. There was no “right” moment. Every moment with Tohru, even the arguments, the fights, the make-ups and lazy days spent at the house, the hectic workdays and awful hangover mornings— any of them would have been the perfect moment to ask Tohru to marry him.
“There was… a lot to consider.” Souji said, despite it all. “I didn’t want to be impulsive. Not with you.”
“Idiot.” Tohru sighed. He sounded irritated, but the pink on his cheeks told a different story. Souji knew him well enough by now to know better. “You’re the most impatient, impulsive person I know.”
“I know,” said Souji, a little dejectedly.
“Weddings are expensive. And stressful.”
“I know.”
“Don’t you know how many marriages end in divorce? We’re better off just dating.”
“I know…”
Tohru eyed the box in Souji’s hand. For a second, Souji was afraid he would grab it and fling it into the distance. Maybe he was just so put off by the idea of getting married— of marrying Souji— that he’d rather be rid of the entire thing.
Instead, he held out his left hand with a little huff.
“And I know how much of a sap you are for this shit,” muttered Tohru, face flushed a color Souji didn’t know it could flush, “so just. Hurry up, put the ring on.”
Souji’s heart leapt into his throat. “Does this mean— are you saying yes?”
“Do I seriously need to spell it out for you?”
Tears welled in Souji’s eyes.
Tohru was quick to click his tongue and wipe them away. “Yes, alright, yes, I’ll— marry you, or whatever, you crybaby.”
“But do you want to?” asked Souji, eyes big and shiny and wet with unshed tears. “If you don’t want to— if you’re doing this to spare my feelings, I don’t—”
“Seta.” The question itself was moronic. Tohru hated the idea of “forever,” moreso the idea of spending it with someone else, but he couldn’t think of anyone else he would rather suffer through the rest of what “forever” looked like if not Souji. His voice was soft as he said, “I want to marry you.”
He was crushed into an embrace that nearly knocked the wind out of him. Any bitchy protest about his dislike for PDA died on his tongue when he heard Souji sniffle and say, “Thank you,” as if Tohru were agreeing to so much more than marry him.
And maybe he was, but that hardly mattered. Souji looked happy. If marrying someone like Tohru meant this much to someone like Souji, maybe Tohru was doing something right, after all.
The ring fit snug around his finger. It was a simple gold band, because Souji knew he hated extravagance.
“You even knew my ring size.” Tohru huffed out a laugh, watching the band glint in the sunlight. He knew in a few months’ time, Souji would be wearing a matching one just like it. The realization made him warm all over. “I don’t even know my ring size.”
The food, as well as the rest of the afternoon, was somehow more delicious than when they first set off.