love on loan

Laughter. That’s the first thing Taiga hears as he pushes the door open to the rooftop. The lights stringing across their old-fashioned picnic table twinkle in the chilly night, making his family gathered around the barbecue pit seem like actors in an old movie.

Taiga’s turning twenty-nine years old today, and they’re celebrating it the way they always do: with fire, with food, with family.

“Happy birthday, Taiga!” Ryosuke calls out from behind the grill, his normally serious face softened by the playful warmth of the fire.

Taiga’s older brother always finds comfort in order, in the system of things. He’s in his element here, organizing the food with the precision of a seasoned software developer. Taiga watches him flip a steak, a satisfied grin on his face. This is his joy.

Across the table, Shunsuke, the youngest of them, is talking animatedly, gesticulating wildly with a fork in one hand. He’s always been the most extroverted one, a whirlwind of ideas and ambition, even in his youth. Taiga thinks he likes the attention, the way he controls the conversation, even if it’s just about the latest mathematical proof or the clever quip he shared with his professor.

His father interrupts Shunsuke’s monologue with a hearty laugh. His voice, still strong despite his age, is a calming presence. He might be retired, but his commanding personality still seeps through. The family patriarch, still the Chief, even outside the boardroom.

His mother just watches them all, her soft eyes reflecting the joy of the gathering. She’s the quietest one here who finds beauty in these simple moments. She’s always been the heart of the Kyomoto family.

Taiga takes his seat at the table, his birthday cake before him, the flames dancing on the candles. He makes a wish, something he can’t put into words, something about time, and love, and regret. Then he blows out the candles.

After the claps and cheers and after each has gotten their slice of cake, Ryosuke brings up his upcoming wedding with Kanna. Three years they’ve been together, and Taiga can see the excitement in his eyes.

It’s infectious. It’s terrifying.

“Taiga,” Ryosuke asks, “Juri’s free on the wedding weekend, right? I need to finalize the hotel arrangements.”

Taiga freezes. Juri.

His heart clenches at the sound of his name. They broke up a month ago. Taiga hasn’t told anyone.

What does he do?

“Juri can’t make it,” Taiga lies.

The table falls silent. His parents’ disappointment is palpable. Even Shunsuke seems taken aback. An unfortunate consequence of your family loving your (ex-)boyfriend.

“Taiga,” his mother says, her voice filled with a subtle longing, “do you remember the first time Juri came to one of our family gatherings? He fit in so well, didn’t he?”

His mother, in her own quiet way, always knows what strings to pull to get what she wants. She can always make anyone feel like they have an obligation, a duty to the family. But she never does it harshly. It’s always a gentle nudge, a reminder of what’s important. It’s a trait of hers, a testament to her caring personality. But it can also be a weapon.

She brings up the past, forces Taiga to remember the good times they had, the times when everything was okay. She makes him remember that Juri isn’t just his ex, he’s family.

Then, she talks about the future. About Ryosuke’s wedding. She speaks with excitement Taiga can’t ignore, an anticipation that’s infectious. She talks about all the plans, all the preparations. And then she says, “And just think how wonderful it’ll be to have Juri there with us.”

It’s an indirect guilt trip. She’s not forcing Taiga to do anything. She’s making him want to do it. She’s painting the picture of a perfect wedding, a perfect weekend. A picture where Juri is present. And Taiga will feel guilty for even considering to ruin that image.

But the real kicker, the real guilt-inducing sentence she uses is: “I’ve been telling everyone about Juri. They’re all so excited to meet him.”

It’s a double blow. Not only is Taiga disappointing his family by not bringing Juri, he’s also disappointing the guests, the relatives, the friends who were looking forward to meeting him. The ones who had heard so much about Juri from Taiga’s mother.

She makes Taiga feel like he’s the one who’s letting everyone down. That his personal issues with Juri are inconveniencing everyone. That it’s his duty, his responsibility to bring Juri to the wedding.

She’s good, Kyomoto Hiromi. And she always knows how to make Taiga do what she wants.

Taiga stares down at his untouched food. He feels sick. “Okay,” he hears himself saying. “I’ll talk to him.”

I’ll talk to him? What am I doing?

Taiga keeps his head down, hiding the panic that’s taking root in his chest. What is he going to do? The question echoes in his head. How does he tell them that he and Juri are over? Does he even want to tell them?

What if Juri doesn’t want to come? What if he does? What then? Can they pretend, just for one weekend?

Can Taiga pretend?

And he’s back to the silent wish he made, that silent prayer to time, to love, to regret. He closes his eyes, losing himself in the chaos of his thoughts. The laughter has died down. The lights seem dimmer. The night, colder.

What is he going to do?

Sweat slides down Taiga’s spine, tracing the curve of his back. A final reminder of the sweltering heat as they sit in the over-air-conditioned community center downtown. It’s the end-of-summer party for the non-profit he’s been volunteering at — an organization focused on architectural preservation, which fits right up his alley.

But he’s always been a man of few words, content to work behind the scenes. It’s why he picked architecture. The physical manifestation of one’s thoughts, without uttering a single word.

Across the room, Tanaka Juri hovers near the punch table, looking as out of place as Taiga feels. Juri’s a second-year marketing student. They’ve crossed paths, sure. But they’ve never really talked. Not past the small talk about the weather, which feels redundant in a place where summer’s only temperament is “blistering.”

“Why don’t you go talk to him?” Kochi Yugo, his best friend, nudges Taiga. He’s observant, that one.

Taiga shrugs. “I don’t know. What would we even talk about?”

“Anything.” Yugo insists, rolling his eyes.

“Anything,” Taiga echoes, gaze trailing over to Juri. He’s got an artist’s soul, Taiga can tell from the way he always catches Juri sketching something on his tablet. And Taiga, knowing himself to be a pragmatic type, knows he won’t blend well with the artsy types.

But with Yugo’s push, both figurative and literal, Taiga steps towards Juri. His eyes meet his, lighting up as he smiles. “Kyomoto-senpai, right? You’re in architecture.”

“Taiga,” Taiga corrects, returning the smile. “And you’re Tanaka, the marketing guy.”

“I prefer Juri,” Juri chuckles. “Maybe we need to be less formal now that we’ve worked together all summer, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” Taiga nods, finding comfort in Juri’s easygoing nature so far.

The conversation picks up from there, about classes, the heat, how ridiculous it is to wear suits in this humidity. Juri talks passionately about his latest marketing project — a campaign for a local restaurant. Taiga’s drawn in, despite himself. Juri speaks with animation and excitement that Taiga can’t help but admire. Maybe it’s Juri’s creative ideas or the way he sees possibilities everywhere. Taiga doesn’t know. But it’s contagious.

Soon, they’re talking about their shared love for their hometown — its blend of tradition and modernity, its cultural heritage, the food. And just like that, Taiga finds himself thinking this guy isn’t so bad. He’s got a different perspective, sure. But it’s interesting. It’s refreshing.

The party winds down around them, but they remain engrossed in conversation. About cityscapes and preservation, food, music, and art. Taiga doesn’t know when they cross the line from acquaintances to friends, but it feels right.

It’s different, stepping out of his comfort zone, engaging with someone so different. But it’s good different.

It’s almost eleven in the morning, the chilly Sunday air painting his Parisian-inspired apartment in a cool palette. The playful geometries of Taiga’s apartment create a facade of elegance and extravagance, a stark contrast to the chaos bubbling inside him.

Taiga paces around, his footsteps echoing in the silence. The sleek geometric carpet beneath his feet, the angular furniture around him, they all feel too sharp, too edgy. Like they’re reminding Taiga of the sharp edges of his own reality.

The apartment is too silent, too still. It feels empty. Feels empty without Juri.

Juri. Taiga’s been turning his name over in his mind since his birthday party, like a mantra. It’s been a month since they broke up, but his name still sounds foreign to him. As if it belongs to a stranger, not to the man Taiga has loved for seven years.

How did they get here? How did it fall apart?

The dial tone resonates in the hollow space, the number on his screen too familiar. The rhythm of the tone seems to match his heartbeat, speeding up, slowing down. Taiga’s pulse quickens. What if he answers? What if he doesn’t?

Three rings. Then Juri’s voice. Deep, rumbly, it fills the room. It fills Taiga. He doesn’t realize how much he missed Juri’s voice until he heard it just now.

“Taiga? What’s up?”

Juri’s question hangs in the air. What’s up? How does Taiga even begin to answer that? He’s calling his ex to ask him to pretend to be his boyfriend again. For the sake of his family. Because he couldn’t bear to tell them the truth. That they broke up. That he messed up.

“Juri, my family wants you at Ryosuke’s wedding.”

Silence. The confusion seeps into his voice. “Why would they want me there? We broke up, Taiga.”

“I … I didn’t tell them.”

Shock. Disbelief. Annoyance. Taiga can hear it all in the silence on the other end. He can imagine Juri’s face, his expression. The way his eyebrows would furrow, the way his lips would press into a thin line.

“You didn’t tell them?” Juri sounds incredulous. Annoyed. Like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You’re close to your family, Taiga. You see them almost every weekend. How could you not tell them?”

Taiga can’t respond. How does he even begin to explain? He was miserable. He didn’t want to rehash the breakup. He didn’t want to admit that they were over. So he didn’t.

“Mom did her guilt-tripping, Juri,” Taiga confesses. “I couldn’t tell her. Not then.”

“I’m not going to lie to your family, Taiga.” He’s firm. Decisive. Classic Juri.

“But Ryosuke already booked the accommodations …”

Taiga can almost see Juri rolling his eyes, dismissing his argument. “Talk to your family, Taiga. Tell him we drifted apart or something.”

Drifted apart? How dare he suggest something so mundane, so trivial for their seven-year relationship. “Drifted apart” is for short-lived flings, not for what they had.

“I think I should hang up now, Taiga,” Juri says, and there’s a finality to his voice that stings. “Take care of yourself.”

The line goes dead. His voice is gone. The apartment is silent again. Too silent.

Taiga sits there, the silence pressing down on him. He thought maybe Juri missed him too. He thought maybe there was still something there. But he was wrong. Juri moved on. He was fine.

And Taiga …

Taiga’s not ready to let go. He still needs Juri in his life. He thought they’d spend the rest of their lives together. And when that didn’t happen, it feels like he’s spending the rest of his life missing Juri.

A part of Taiga knows this isn’t healthy. That he needs to move on, needs to accept the truth.

But the truth hurts. The truth is that Juri is gone. And Taiga’s not ready to face a life without him. Not yet.

The world of manga has always been a refuge for Taiga. A world where everything makes sense, where the characters are dependable, where there’s always a solution.

Detective Conan has always been his favorite ever since he was a kid. His tenacity, his intelligence, his way of figuring things out, always gives him comfort.

Taiga flips through the pages, his mind simultaneously in the world of high-stakes detective work and in the world where Juri has just left him. A world that feels so much colder, so much emptier.

His phone rings, ripping Taiga from his manga-induced tranquility. The bright screen illuminates the dark room, casting long, distorted shadows. The name on the screen is like a punch to the gut.

Juri. Why hasn’t he deleted his number yet?

There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach. Fear, dread, hope? Maybe a mix of all three. Their conversation from his morning resurfaces in his mind, the words still fresh, still stinging.

Taiga answers the call, his heart pounding in his chest. What could Juri possibly want to say now?

“I’ll do it,” Juri says.

Taiga is thrown. He can hardly remember to breathe, much less understand what he’s talking about.

“Do what?” Taiga asks, confused. Maybe it’s the hunger gnawing at him, or maybe it’s the dull ache behind his eyes from reading all day.

“I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend at the wedding,” Juri clarifies.

Taiga’s world tilts on its axis. Why would Juri agree? Why now?

“But on one condition,” Juri adds.

Taiga’s heart sinks. There’s always a condition, always a catch.

“Meet me at my office tomorrow. We’ll discuss the arrangement.”

Before Taiga can respond, Juri hangs up, leaving him staring at the blank screen of his phone, the silence of his apartment pressing in on him.

What just happened? One moment Taiga is engrossed in his manga, the next, he’s thrown back into the whirlwind that is his relationship with Juri. The raw edges of the wound that was their breakup still sting, and this new development feels like salt on those wounds.

Taiga puts his manga down, the taste of reality too bitter. His apartment, his sanctuary, feels cold, impersonal. The geometric patterns that once felt playful now feel harsh, demanding.

He’s left with his thoughts, his confusion. What does Juri’s agreement mean? What’s his condition? Why did he change his mind?

But more than that, why does it matter so much to him? They’re not together anymore. Taiga should be moving on, letting go. But every time Juri’s name lights up on his screen, every time he hears Juri’s voice, he’s pulled back in.

Is this how it’s going to be? Is this what the rest of his life looks like? Living in the shadow of what they had? Of what Taiga thought they’d have?

Tomorrow, he’ll meet Juri. They’ll discuss the arrangement. And maybe then, he’ll find some clarity.

Maybe then, Taiga can start to piece his life back together. But for now, he’s left with his thoughts, his regrets, and a phone with a name he can’t bring himself to delete.

The evening is sinking in, seeping through the large windows of Taiga’s apartment, pooling in the corners with an autumnal chill. Taiga is sitting in the middle of the living room, his gaze fixed on the labyrinthine patterns of the rug beneath him.

His mind, however, is elsewhere. It’s somewhere in the past, in a time when Juri was still a part of his life. When this apartment wasn’t just an echo chamber for his solitude.

Seven years. You’d think it would be hard to sum up seven years in a few words, but it’s surprisingly easy.

Love. Joy. Laughter. Fights. Misunderstandings. Love again.

The cycle was comforting in its predictability. Even when they fought, there was always the certainty that they’d make up, that they’d find their way back to each other.

But eventually, those certainties began to crumble.

Juri had always been unsure about commitment, about settling down. It was part of his charm, the allure of a free spirit that didn’t want to be caged. Taiga had always thought that with time, with love, that uncertainty would fade.

But it didn’t. If anything, it grew. It became a chasm between them, swallowing up their shared dreams, their shared future.

And then one day, they were standing on the edge of that chasm, staring into its depths, and the realization hit them. They were no longer on the same path. Their roads had diverged, leading them in different directions. And no amount of love, no amount of trying, could bring them back together.

So they parted ways. A quiet goodbye, tinged with a sadness that felt almost tangible. No blame, no anger. Just a heavy acceptance that sometimes, love isn’t enough. That sometimes, you have to let go of the person you love for the sake of your own happiness, for the sake of their happiness.

A clean break, that’s what it was supposed to be. An amicable end to a chapter of their lives.

But is it really that easy? Can you truly sever the ties of seven years with a single conversation?

Apparently not, as Taiga has discovered.

The silence of the apartment wraps around him, a reminder of his solitude. He glances at the clock. It’s time. Time to meet Juri. Time to navigate this new territory of being … strangers.

Can they do that? Can they pretend the love, the intimacy, the shared dreams were nothing more than a temporary blip in their lives?

Taiga doesn’t know. But what he does know is that he’s not ready to let him go completely. Not yet. Maybe that’s his folly, his inability to let go. But it’s a folly he’s willing to live with, at least for now.

And so, he gets up, the patterns of the rug blurring into a sea of color as his focus shifts. Taiga walks towards the door, each step echoing in the silence of the apartment. As he steps out, a gust of autumn wind greets him, its cool fingers brushing against his skin, as if bidding him luck.

Tonight, they’ll sit across from each other, navigating the spaces between the words, the pauses, the glances. It won’t be easy. It’ll be uncomfortable, awkward even. But it’s a step. A step towards acceptance, towards moving on.

And as the door of Taiga’s apartment closes behind him, he can’t help but wonder. Will they ever find our way back to each other? Or is this the beginning of a journey that leads them farther apart?

Only time will tell. For now, all he can do is move forward, one step at a time.

Juri is always a creature of routine. Wake up, shower, work, sleep. Except, of course, when Taiga used to coax him into those late-night excursions, those sudden breaks from the mundane monotony.

And now, even when Taiga’s not here, it seems like he still has a way of unsettling Juri’s usual rhythm.

The predawn chill nips at Juri, and he thinks of Taiga. He remembers how he used to wrap his scarf around his neck, grumbling that he was always unprepared for the weather.

Juri feels a pang of something—he’s not sure what it is. It could be regret, or maybe a longing for that which once was. What is it about breakups that turn adults into melancholic teenagers?

He shakes his head, pushing the door to Tokyo Bay Heaven open. His stomach twists, the way it does when his emotions get the better of him. But he can’t give into it, not now.

“Juri! You’re early!” Shintaro, the ever-excitable junior event planner, greets him, his signature bright smile instantly filling the room.

Juri can’t help but return it. For all his boisterousness, Shintaro has a way of easing tension. “Big day ahead,” he responds, nonchalantly shrugging his coat off. The lie tastes like bitter coffee on his tongue. He’s not here early for work. Not today.

Shintaro grins. “A breakfast date, perhaps?” His eyes spark with mischief.

“No … not exactly,” Juri hedges, his heart pounding in his chest. Does he dare confess the truth to Shintaro?

“Aw, come on, spill!” Shintaro cajoles, making a mock pleading face.

And for reasons Juri can’t entirely explain, he does.

“Taiga.” Juri lets the name hang in the air. “He asked me to … pretend. To be together, for his brother’s wedding.”

There’s silence for a beat, and then Shintaro erupts into laughter, his chuckles echoing around the empty office. “You, Tanaka Juri, are going to be Kyomoto Taiga’s pretend boyfriend?" He looks at Juri with his bright eyes twinkling.

“I know, it’s ridiculous—” Juri starts, but Shintaro cuts him off.

“No, it’s hilarious!” Shintaro says, wiping a tear from his eye. “And so very you and Taiga. You can never resist him, can you?”

Internally, Juri’s forced to agree. Taiga has always had a way of breaking down his walls. But he can’t let Shintaro know that. He can’t let anyone know that. So, he changes the subject. “Well, I asked for something in return.”

“Let me guess,” Shintaro says, his grin widening even further. “Make-up sex?”

Juri’s cheeks instantly flush a bright red, and he sputters, “No, Shintaro, god—”

Shintaro cackles again, his laughter a stark contrast to the somber thoughts swirling around in Juri’s head. But he supposes that’s Shintaro—bringing light to the darkest corners of his life.

As Juri prepares for Taiga’s arrival, he can’t help but feel a sense of dread creeping over him. Seeing him for the first time after their breakup, agreeing to this absurd pretense—it all feels like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any moment.

Why did I say yes? Why did I let Taiga rope me into this?

Because, a small voice whispers in the back of his mind, because you’re not over him. Because you still care. Because maybe, just maybe, you still love him.

Juri shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the thoughts. Now is not the time to contemplate his complicated feelings for Kyomoto Taiga. Not when he’s about to see him, not when they’re about to dive headfirst into this mess of pretending.

He looks at Shintaro, laughing, carefree, engaged to be married to Hokuto, the love of his life. Is that what he wants? Is that what he’s scared of? Commitment? Or is it the fear of losing Taiga forever?

As the first rays of sunlight filter into the office, Juri realizes he doesn’t have the answers. He doesn’t know what he wants, what he’s scared of. All he knows is that in a few minutes, he’ll be sitting across from Taiga, discussing how they’ll pretend to be in love again, and his heart is pounding in his chest, the fear and excitement blending into one.

The campus is empty, a ghost town echoing with the resounding silence of summer vacation. Juri is there for autumn term enrollment and already feeling the weight of another year at university. It’s a monotonous rhythm—enroll, study, pass, repeat—and yet, it’s a rhythm he’s come to know well.

The last strains of the summer rain have left the world slick and shimmering. Juri always loved the rain, the way it erased everything, wiped the slate clean, offered a fresh start. It’s a sentiment that seems all too poignant as he approaches the new term, the promise of a fresh start looming large.

Suddenly, a familiar figure standing in front of the bulletin board by the dining hall catches his eye. It’s Kyomoto Taiga, the architecture major who he met at the end-of-summer party. There’s something about him that resonates within Juri, a certain familiarity that defies their brief acquaintance. A pang of nostalgia hits him as he recalls their shared laughter, their effortless conversation at the party. They clicked instantly, and for the first time in a long while, Juri felt seen, understood.

“Hey,” Juri greets as he approaches Taiga, his voice breaking the serene silence of the empty campus.

Taiga turns, and the spark of recognition in his eyes sends a jolt through Juri. “Juri,” he says, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Good to see you.”

His attention quickly turns back to the bulletin board. Juri follows his gaze and sees a flyer calling for proposals for a social impact initiative. There’s a look of intense focus on Taiga’s eyes, an excitement that Juri finds infectious.

“I haven’t really done much in terms of extracurriculars,” Taiga confesses, not taking his eyes off the flyer. “Thought this might be a good opportunity.”

His admission is so honest, so open, that Juri can’t help but be drawn in. He sees himself in Taiga, in his pursuit of something meaningful amidst the monotony of academia. He, too, has been yearning for something more, something to break the cycle of tedious coursework and restless nights of studying.

Without thinking, he blurts out, “We could partner up.”

Taiga turns to look at him, surprise etching across his face. “Are you sure?”

Juri nods, a rush of adrenaline surging through him. “I’m in my second year. I should start boosting my resume, too.”

A slow smile spreads across Taiga’s face, and Juri’s heart races in response. “Okay then.” He extends his hand. “Here’s to a fruitful partnership.”

Taiga’s hand is warm in Juri’s, a solid anchor amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him. Juri squeezes his hand, sealing their pact, and they shake hands.

The scent of buttery croissants and freshly brewed coffee hang heavy in the air as Juri steps into the lobby of Tokyo Bay Heaven. It’s a soothing scent, one that whispers of lazy Sundays and breakfasts in bed, but it does nothing to still the tempest brewing in his chest. He scans the room and his eyes land on a familiar figure perched on the couch.

It’s him. Taiga.

He looks beautiful, as always. His dark hair is neatly combed, his glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose, a picture of perfect composure.

But Juri knows better. The nervous tapping of his foot, the way he clenches and unclenches his fist, the slight tremble in his hands — all betray his nerves.

Juri swallows, his throat suddenly dry, and forces himself to move. One step, then another, until he’s standing in front of Taiga.

They stand there, the silence stretching between them, neither of them knowing what to do. Hug? Handshake? Nothing seems appropriate.

Eventually, Juri clears his throat. “Shall we?” He gestures towards the restaurant, hoping to dispel the awkward tension.

Taiga nods, and they make their way to the restaurant.

They order their food before delving into the details of their arrangement.

“I’ll agree to this … pretend boyfriend thing for the wedding,” Juri starts, his words tumbling out in a rush. “But I need your help.”

Taiga’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “With what?”

“The hotel is planning on building a new wing. I need help with the proposal.”

“Wait, you want me to do it for free?” Taiga asks, incredulity coloring his voice.

Juri shakes his head. “No, not for free. Consider it payment for … my inconvenience of pretending we’re still together,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “If it helps, if the management likes your design, I could pitch to them to have your firm take charge of the project.”

There’s a moment of silence before Taiga finally agrees. Juri lets out a sigh of relief. One hurdle crossed.

The arrival of their food provides a momentary distraction, but Juri knows they have more to discuss. “We need to set some ground rules,” he states, meeting Taiga’s gaze. “About … public displays of affection.”

Taiga nods, swallowing. “Hand-holding should be okay.”

“Hugs, too,” Juri adds, remembering the familial warmth that always permeated Taiga’s family gatherings. “Just to keep things … realistic.”

They agree to speak up if things get uncomfortable, but Juri’s next suggestion is met with resistance.

“After the wedding, you have to tell your family we broke up,” he tells Taiga. “Just make up some reason.”

Taiga’s face hardens at his words. “Why should I make up some reason when it was your fear of commitment that ended things?” he shoots back, anger flashing in his eyes.

Juri rolls his eyes, irritation gnawing at him. “And maybe things would have been different if you hadn’t suppressed your emotions all the time,” he retorts, his voice barely above a whisper.

Silence engulfs them once again, punctuated only by the clinking of cutlery against plates. They eat in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Juri can tell Taiga’s upset, and a part of him wants to apologize, to make things right. But he bites his tongue, unwilling to argue, especially not here.

As they finish their meal, Taiga breaks the silence. “Yugo and Jesse will be at the wedding,” he says.

Juri remembers Yugo, Taiga’s best friend, and his husband, Jesse. They’re a good couple, strong, committed.

“They know about our breakup. I’ll tell them about … this”—Taiga gestures between them—“to avoid confusion.”

Juri chuckles, the irony not lost in him. “Funny how your friends knew about the breakup immediately, but you forgot to tell your family,” he quips.

Taiga glares at him but remains silent.

The bill arrives and sparks another argument. Taiga insists on paying, citing that he roped Juri into this mess. Juri counters with his employee discount, but Taiga isn’t backing down. Eventually, they compromise. Juri will pay the bill, and Taiga will cover the gas for the wedding weekend.

And just like that, their deal is sealed. They’re going to be pretend boyfriends.

As they leave the restaurant, the morning sun streaming through the glass walls, Juri can’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. He’s agreed to a charade, a play of sorts, with the man he once loved, still loves.

And for what? A few quiet moments of solitude before the storm? The prospect both terrifies and excites Juri, a paradox he can’t quite decipher.

Juri takes one last look at Taiga before they part ways. He’s pulling on his coat, his movements careful and precise, his expression unreadable.

And Juri can’t help but think, as he watches Taiga disappear into the bustling crowd, that this might be the beginning of an end. Or maybe, just maybe, the beginning of a new start.

As Juri makes his way back to his office, a flurry of thoughts swirls in his mind. Is this the right thing to do? Will this hurt more than it helps?

Juri doesn’t have the answers. All he has is hope and a commitment to see this through. And in the end, maybe that’s all they really need.

The chill of the December evening bites into Juri’s skin as he steps into his apartment, the sudden absence of warmth accentuating the stark contrast of what was and what is. It’s a small space, minimalist in design, an expansion of himself in its simplicity. But as he stands in the threshold, all he can see is the glaring absence of Taiga’s touch.

They lived together once. Their lives entwined in a beautiful dance of love and companionship, of shared dreams and shared spaces. Taiga’s architectural expertise transformed their shared space into a haven.

But now, Juri’s apartment seems too empty, too cold. Where Taiga had placed throw pillows for comfort, Juri sees nothing but a bare couch. There is no space for their books, no spice rack from the kitchen.

Juri moves towards the box he’d brought back from Taiga’s apartment, their past bundled up in a cardboard container. His hands shake as he lifts the lid, unveiling the trove of memories contained within. Their past stares back at him, tangible reminders of moments of love, of shared laughter, of whispered promises under the cover of night.

There’s the ticket stub from their first concert together, the night they’d kissed under the winter stars. A rush of warmth floods through him, the memory still as vivid as if it were yesterday. The pounding music, the crush of bodies, his lips on Juri’s, sweet and demanding all at once.

There are other mementos too. The friendship bracelet they’d bought on our first trip together, the photo booth pictures from that Christmas market, the lucky charm Taiga had won for Juri at the local fair. Each item is a piece of their shared past, a jigsaw puzzle that no longer fits.

Juri picks up one of his hoodies, still faintly smelling of Taiga’s cologne. There are more at his place, he knows. The question is, does he ask for them back? Does Juri want them back? He buries his face into the fabric, the familiar scent triggering a fresh wave of nostalgia.

The ping of his phone pulls him from his reverie. It’s an email from Taiga.

Juri’s heart lurches as he scans through the details of the upcoming wedding weekend, which is the weekend after Christmas. The place, the dress code, the itinerary. Taiga mentions that check-in starts on Friday afternoon, but they could explore the island beforehand.

Juri replies quickly, his fingers typing out a response before he can second guess himself. He tells Taiga he’ll pick him up in the morning. He hits send and drops the phone, the reality of their upcoming charade sinking in.

The silence of the apartment is deafening as Juri sits there, his heart hammering in his chest. What has he agreed to? A weekend of pretend love, of smiles that don’t reach his eyes, of lies and half-truths. His mind is a whirlwind of questions, doubts, and fears, each thought louder and more insistent than the last.

Can I pull this off? Can I pretend that my heart isn’t breaking every time I look at him?

The low hum of the engine is the only sound as Juri and Taiga drive through the evening, the city lights whizzing past in a blur. The silence in the car is a living thing, a tangible testament to the tension simmering between them. Juri’s fingers are clenched around the steering wheel, the knuckles white with the strain. Taiga is next to him, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. His silence is heavy, charged, a reminder of the elephant in the room.

The reunion is Juri’s idea, a chance to reconnect with old classmates. Nostalgia and apprehension mix uneasily in his gut, like two ill-suited dance partners trying to find a rhythm. It has been a while since he last saw them. How much have they changed? How much has he changed?

Juri sneaks a glance at Taiga, his profile stoic and unreadable in the dim light. Has he changed, too?

As they pull into the parking lot of the hotel, Juri’s nerves reach a crescendo. The hotel’s impressive façade, washed in the soft glow of the evening lights, does nothing to quell the butterflies in his stomach.

Juri kills the engine, the sudden silence ringing loud in his ears. They sit there for a moment, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

A familiar face breaks through Juri’s apprehension as they step into the restaurant. Shota, a close friend from college, greets them with a warm smile. The sight of him is a welcome sight, a tether to a simpler past. His joy at seeing Juri and Taiga is evident in his eyes, his greeting enthusiastic and warm.

Shota introduces them to Meme, his fiancé.

“We’ve been together for over a year now,” Meme says, his eyes glowing with happiness. “And we recently got engaged.”

Engaged. The word rings in Juri’s ears, setting off a thousand alarms. It feels like a punch to the gut, a reminder of the chasm between him and Taiga.

“So soon?” The words slip out before Juri can stop them. He didn’t mean for them to sound so judgmental, so … scared.

Shota smiles, a knowing look in his eyes. “We knew what we wanted. Why wait?”

Juri’s eyes find Taiga’s. His gaze is unreadable, his face a mask of composure. A question hangs between them, unspoken and unacknowledged.

He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry.

The conversation shifts then, like a ship caught in the shifting tides. Suddenly, they’re the center of attention. Questions about their relationship, about their future plans.

And then the inevitable question, the one Juri has been dreading.

“So when are you two tying the knot?”

The silence that follows is deafening. Juri can feel Taiga’s gaze on him, his eyes boring into his.

“I—we’re—” Juri stammers. “We’re not in a rush. We’re taking our time.”

The tension in the room is palpable. Taiga’s face is a mask of calm, but Juri can see the hurt in his eyes. And just like that, he stands up, his chair scraping against the floor.

“I need some air,” he mutters, his voice tight.

And then Taiga’s gone, leaving Juri sitting there, surrounded by the debris of his own securities.

Juri sits there, the guilt a heavy stone in his gut. He made a mess. He hurt Taiga. The realization hits him with the force of a freight train. His fear, his insecurities, his trauma—they’ve driven a wedge between them.

As Juri sits there, staring at the empty seat next to him, he wonders: Has he let his past overshadow their future? His fear of turning into his parents, his fear of causing pain, has it blinded him to the possibility of happiness?

Is he going to lose Taiga because of his refusal to face his fears?

Every surface, every corner of Taiga’s workplace is a constant hum of activity. An open space, enclosed by naked steelwork and a carpet of verdant green underfoot. Here, the creative minds converge and collide, giving life to the inanimate, setting the groundwork for dreams and ambitions to take form in concrete and glass.

Taiga is in the eye of the whirlwind, wedged into his own world, his own corner of carefully organized chaos. Blueprints are scattered around his desk, looking like an abstract work of art to the untrained eye. To Taiga, they are lifelines, threads weaving together the future and present, the client’s dream, and the firm’s reputation.

The ringing phone is Taiga’s siren song, pulling him back into the fray. One conversation after another, a symphony of information exchange, decisions, and confirmations. Contractors, fellow architects, the client himself – all jostling to make their voices heard, all clamoring for his attention.

The minutes morph into hours. The rest of the world shrinks into the periphery, a dim echo in the back of Taiga’s mind. His focus is laser-sharp, riveted on the task at hand. The room pulsates with energy, the air tinged with a mix of apprehension and excitement. The deadline looms ahead, casting long shadows on their collective efforts.

And then, an interruption. A fracture in Taiga’s concentration. Sayu, the receptionist with a perpetually bright smile, stands at the entrance of his cubicle. “Kyomoto-san, you have a visitor.”

A visitor? Here? Now? Taiga blinks, as if the simple act of closing and opening his eyes could wipe away the surprise. He swallows, trying to quell the annoyance bubbling up. Can’t they see they’re under pressure?

As Taiga straightens, intending to give Sayu a piece of his mind, the figure behind her comes into view. Yugo. A grin plastered on his face, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his casual attire. A stark contrast to the tailored suits and polished shoes that dominate the office landscape.

A memory stirs. Lunch. They were supposed to have lunch together. The realization stirs into him with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. The plans had slipped through the cracks of his memory, buried under the avalanche of responsibilities and tasks.

Guilt churns inside Taiga, guilt and a twinge of something else. Relief? Yes, relief. A pause, a break from the cyclone of work. The mere thought is like a balm to his frayed nerves.

“Sorry, Yugo,” Taiga manages to say, managing a smile as he rubs the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture. “I completely forgot.”

Yugo’s grin widens, unfazed by his apology. “It’s fine, Taiga. I figured you’d be buried in work. But that’s why I’m here, right? To drag you out of this mess, even if just for a lunch break.”

And just like that, the tension ebbs away. For a moment, the deadlines, the client, the blueprints – they all fade into the background. Here, in the eye of the storm, an island of calm emerges.

Kochi Yugo, Taiga’s best friend, his lifeline in the chaos.

Taiga sits across Yugo at the tonkatsu restaurant, the scent of fried pork cutlets wafting around them. Each bite from the tenderloin, loin, and shoulder is hot, served one piece at a time. It’s a careful, calculated ritual that allows him to appreciate every piece separately. The meat is served face-up, showing the unblemished, golden-brown crust. It’s a tactile pleasure in an otherwise tumultuous day.

Yugo fixes Taiga with a stern look, pointing with his chopsticks at Taiga’s plate. “Taiga, when was the last time you had a proper meal?”

His question is a gentle chide wrapped in concern, a typical Yugo mannerism. His tone soft, but firm enough to make Taiga squirm in his seat.

“I … I don’t know. Yesterday?” Taiga mutters, unable to meet his best friend’s gaze. It feels like a half-lie because yesterday he had leftover cake, not exactly a “proper meal.”

“And sleep?” Yugo persists. The line of questioning feels like an inquisition, each query a carefully aimed arrow.

“I … uh …” Taiga stammers. Images of his apartment, the cold, untouched bed flash in his mind. Panic bubbles up, manifesting as a lump in his throat. He swallows it down, along with his bite of the pork cutlet. The crunch of the golden crust, the juicy interior … it feels like a reproach. The lack of appetite betrays his negligence, his self-destruction.

“I …” Taiga starts, fiddling with the chopsticks. “I’m sorry, Yugo. Juri used to … make sure I ate, slept.” The words sound foreign, a reminder of the gaping hole that Juri’s departure has left in his life. A pang of something bittersweet reverberates through him.

“Taiga, this isn’t healthy. You know that, right?” Yugo’s voice breaks through his reverie, his concern spilling into his words.

Taiga’s chest tightens. The taste of the food turns into a metallic tang. The confession. He has to tell him. “Yugo, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Yugo’s eyebrows lift, encouraging him to continue.

Taiga draws a deep breath, the words forming a lump in his throat. “I forgot to tell my family about the breakup. When they asked about Juri attending the wedding, I told them he’ll come.”

The restaurant buzzes around them, a humdrum that feels detached, alien. As if his confession has created a bubble around them. Taiga sees Yugo blink, his surprise evident.

“I asked Juri if he could … pretend. Just for Ryosuke’s wedding. He agreed, as long as I help him design a new wing for the hotel.” Taiga’s words echo between them, dropping into the silence like pebbles into a still pond. “I just thought you should know. You and Jesse are the only ones among the guest who know about the breakup.”

Yugo stares at Taiga, his expression a mix of surprise and understanding. He leans back, processing Taiga’s confession. “That’s … complicated, Taiga,” he says after a while. His eyes meet Taiga’s, a silent question hanging in the air. “Is there a part of you that’s still in denial?”

The question hangs between them, suspended in time. Taiga feels the pang again, a throb of unspoken emotions, unshed tears. “Maybe,” he confesses, his voice a mere whisper. “Seven years, Yugo. It’s not easy.”

Yugo nods, understanding flickering in his eyes. “And after the wedding? Do you think there’s a chance for you two?”

Taiga glances at his wedding ring, a silent testament to love and commitment. The memory of their vows, of Yugo and Jesse promising forever to each other, sears through him. It’s a knife to the heart, a painful reminder of what he had hoped for, dreamt about.

He sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Yugo. I really don’t. But I guess … it wasn’t meant to be.”

Taiga’s voice breaks at the end, the reality of his situation sinking in. He doesn’t know what tomorrow holds. He doesn’t know if the wounds of the past month will ever heal. All he knows is that right now, he’s stuck in a tangled web of his own making, and it’s suffocating him.

Their conversation ebbs, replaced by the murmur of the restaurant. They both fall silent, lost in their own thoughts. The taste of the tonkatsu, once an indulgence, now feels like ash in Taiga’s mouth. And despite the heat of the meal, a cold chill runs down his spine.

This isn’t just about the wedding. This is about him, about Juri, about them.

The wound is still raw, and every word, every memory, every confession, feels like salt on it.

Taiga’s apartment is an embodiment of chaos. It’s a small studio filled with drafts, blueprints, tools, and textbooks. Scale models compete for space with takeout containers and piles of unwashed clothes. It’s his sanctuary, his workspace, his battlefield — every square inch reflects a young architecture student’s life.

His focus, however, is solely on the drafting table. Taiga’s hovering over it, hunched like a vulture over its prey. The glaring white paper is speckled with smudged graphite, geometrical designs for his thesis project. The room is bathed in the cold, artificial light of the desk lamp that flickers, making his shadow dance across the cluttered floor. The taste of cold coffee lingers in his mouth, a bitter reminder of hours spent in isolation, immersed in his work.

A sharp ring punctuates the drone of silence, shattering Taiga’s concentration. He glances at his phone, squinting against the sudden brightness. It’s a reminder for an online lecture. He dismisses it, pushing away the device. It’s noise, an unwanted interruption. The world outside has ceased to matter, reduced to a hazy, inconsequential blur.

Then the doorbell rings.

Taiga freezes, a sense of incredulity washing over him. Who could it be? No one visits him at this hour. Or ever, for that matter. (Unless it’s Yugo with food, but Yugo usually gives him a head’s up.) His footsteps echo in the studio as he approaches the door. He opens it, and there stands Juri.

His heart skips a beat at the sight of Juri. His hair is slightly disheveled, his jacket unzipped revealing a comfortable sweatshirt underneath. There’s a worry in his eyes, a concern that makes Taiga’s heart twist.

“Taiga,” he begins, his tone a mix of relief and concern. “You haven’t been replying to my messages. I got worried.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken concern. A flush of embarrassment heats Taiga’s face. “Sorry, Juri. I … I tend to lose track of time.”

His stomach chooses the precise moment to grumble, breaking the tension. Juri’s gaze softens, the corners of his mouth lifting in a tender smile. He glances past Taiga, taking in the disarray that is his studio apartment. “Let me make you something.”

Juri disappears into the tiny kitchen area, his presence filling up the small apartment. Taiga hears the clatter of pots and pans, the hiss of something cooking. The aroma of food wafts through the room, a comforting balm to his senses.

As Juri serves the omurice, Taiga realizes how long it’s been since he’s had a decent meal. He takes a bite, the taste exploding in his mouth, and a warmth spreads through him. The sound of his chewing, the tick-tock of the wall clock, and Juri’s silent presence in the room — it’s a tableau of serenity amidst the storm.

Juri doesn’t leave. Taiga resumes his work, comforted by his presence. The humming sound of the vacuum cleaner permeates the studio, a soothing melody amidst the symphony of Taiga’s chaos.

When Taiga returns from his bathroom break, his heart swells at the sight before him. Juri is asleep on the sofa, a peaceful expression adorning his face. His breaths are steady, rhythmic, a lullaby in the silence of the studio. His hair is splayed on the cushion, a contrast to the rough fabric.

And that’s when Taiga realizes it. He’s in love with Juri.

The clarity of the revelation hits him like a punch, taking his breath away. He has been taking Juri for granted, this beautiful, caring man who stepped into his chaotic world without a second thought, who fed him and cleaned his mess, who stayed when he shut the world out.

A question lingers in his heart, tugging at Taiga with each beat. How should he express what he feels? How does he put into words the emotions overwhelming him, the gratitude, the admiration, the love?

For now, though, Taiga is content with watching Juri. Watching Juri sleep, his chest rising and falling in a comforting rhythm, a silent testament to his presence in Taiga’s life. His peaceful countenance is a stark contrast to the chaos of Taiga’s world, a beacon guiding him through the storm.

And Taiga realizes, in this tiny studio apartment filled with mess and chaos, he’s found a piece of his soul he didn’t even know he was missing.

In Juri, he’s found his sanctuary.

Taiga’s standing in his family’s apartment, surrounded by the familiar comfort of vintage décor and the scent of spices filling the air, the chill seeping into the cozy warmth of the apartment. There's a certain charm about winter this year — not frigid, but cold enough to make you appreciate a warm kitchen and the company of family.

Ryosuke is at the helm of the kitchen, a general leading his troops. His voice is commanding, his words concise. He’s got a knack for cooking, a skill honed over the years, a trait Taiga and Shunsuke never quite inherited.

And then there’s Shunsuke, the firecracker in their otherwise calm family. Right now, he’s alternating between helping Ryosuke and teasing Taiga, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

It’s a sight that Taiga would usually find comfort in, this annual Kyomoto Christmas tradition. Yet, as the room fills with laughter and the clatter of dishes, there’s a hollowness inside him, a void that gnaws at his heart.

Juri isn’t here.

“Taiga, where will you and Juri be spending Christmas?” Ryosuke’s voice slices through his thoughts, pulling him back into the present.

Taiga forces a smile onto his face, a lie ready on his lips. “At home, probably. We might go out to watch the winter illuminations.”

The lie tastes bitter, his words a hollow echo of a reality he desperately wishes for. He’ll probably spend Christmas alone, immersed in the comforting solitude of his work. But Taiga doesn’t tell them that. Can’t tell them that.

“What about you, Ryo?” Taiga asks, eager to divert the topic.

Ryosuke’s gaze softens as he mentions Kanna, his wife-to-be. They’ve only been together for three years, but it feels like they’ve known each other for a lifetime. “We’ll be spending Christmas with Kanna’s family,” he shares, a tender smile gracing his lips.

“How did you know you wanted to marry her?” Taiga finds himself asking. It’s a question he’s often pondered, a question that baffles him.

Ryosuke’s answer is simple, yet profound. “We have the same long-term goals, Taiga. And without her, I’d probably just be working all the time. She makes me want to live, not just exist.”

His words echo in Taiga’s mind, a haunting reminder of his own failed relationship. But before hecan dwell on it, Shunsuke jumps in with his youthful curiosity.

“So, are you and Juri planning to tie the knot anytime soon?”

Taiga feels like he’s been punched in the gut. His heart aches, a raw, gnawing pain. “We’re … we’re figuring stuff out,” he manages to mumble, his throat constricting around the words.

Thankfully, the arrival of their parents saves Taiga from further questioning. He excuses himself, feigning fatigue. In the quiet solitude of his room, Taiga tries to steady his pounding heart, his mind racing with thoughts of Juri.

Suddenly, his phone lights up with a new message — it’s Juri.

His message is simple, almost businesslike. He’s asking about Taiga’s Christmas plans. He can’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia, of yearning for the days when their plans were always intertwined, always “we”, never “I.” But those days are long gone.

“I have no plans,” Taiga texts back, the words tasting bitter even in the virtual space.

Juri’s reply is quick. He proposes spending at least half a day together, for appearances’ sake. But his words send a spark of hope fluttering in Taiga’s chest. Another day with Juri. Pretending or not, it’s a chance I doesn’t want to pass up.

“Yes,” he texts back, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Another day with Juri. Even if it’s pretending, even if it’s fleeting, he decides to give it a shot.

As Taiga reclines against the pillows, their small TV casting flickering shadows across their shared bedroom, he is lost in thought. Christmas lights blink lazily outside their apartment, their rhythmic glow penetrating the curtain that shields them from the world. Juri is here next to him, his presence a comforting constant in the chaotic world that is Taiga’s life.

The reality show playing on our screen is about a bride-to-be and her soon-to-be husband in a heated argument, their voices too high, their expressions too intense. It’s clearly scripted, a poorly veiled ploy to garner viewers and spike ratings. The thought makes Taiga wince, and he can’t help but voice his disdain.

“Why do people even enjoy these scripted shows?” he asks, his voice seeping into the silence of their apartment.

“Because,” Juri begins, the playfulness in his voice belying the depth of his words, “weddings are a sham. They’re nothing more but a farce, promising a happily ever after that doesn’t exist.”

Taiga’s heart stutters at Juri’s words. Is this how he really sees marriage? Juri has always been more in touch with his emotions than Taiga is. But this … this is a side of him Taiga has never seen before.

“Juri, do you really believe that?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. His heart is hammering in his chest, a frantic metronome struggling to keep pace with the tumultuous thoughts in his mind.

Juri turns to look at him, his eyes soft, almost apologetic. “Taiga, love doesn’t require a grand celebration or a piece of paper,” he murmurs, his words echoing in the silence of their room. “Love is about being there for each other, about accepting one another’s flaws and imperfections. It’s about choosing to stay, even when the going gets tough.”

His words resonate within Taiga, an echo of truth in a sea of uncertainty. He knows Juri’s fear stems from his past — his father leaving, his mother’s consequent depression. He understands why Juri views marriage as he does, why the idea of committing to someone for life terrifies him.

But that doesn’t make his words sting any less.

Because Taiga dreams of marrying Juri. He envisions a future where they stand before their loved ones, declaring their love and commitment to one another. Taiga longs for the day when they become more than just two people sharing an apartment — when they become a family.

But for now, Taiga swallows his dreams, pushing them into a corner of his heart where they won’t hurt as much. For now, he lets Juri pull him closer, his warmth seeping into him, easing the sting of his words.

As Juri holds him, Taiga can’t help but hope. Hope that one day, his fear of commitment will lessen. Hope that one day, Juri will see marriage not as an end, but as a beginning. And until that day comes, Taiga will be here, loving him, supporting him, reminding him that love is not about grand gestures and legal commitments, but about the small, everyday actions that speak volumes.

And so, as the Christmas lights outside their apartment continue their rhythmic dance, and the couple on the screen reconcile with dramatic tears and promises of love, Taiga lets Juri’s arms around him be enough.

For now.

The elevator hums softly as it lifts Juri upwards, the golden paneling and sleek lines a testament to the luxury of Taiga’s apartment complex. He runs his fingers over the silk tie around his neck, a reminder of the gravity of the situation. It feels like a noose.

Why did he invite Taiga? Why did he make this more complicated than it already was? Juri tries to reason it out, his mind a tangled mess of doubts and justifications. His family would have been suspicious, he knows. They expect them to be together, a loving, perfect couple. A picture perfect image of a love that was supposed to be forever.

And Taiga … Juri knows he would have been alone, buried in his blueprints and sketches, his heart as cold as the concrete he works with. The thought of Taiga alone on Christmas, a day of warmth and love, gnaws at him. The guilt, the regret, the worry; it’s a bitter cocktail that leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Juri’s phone vibrates, pulling him out of his reverie. A message from Shintaro. He’s agreed to come, along with Hokuto. A part of him feels relieved. More people, less tension.

But Shintaro’s parting words, his jest about Juri’s obvious affection for Taiga, sends a pang through his heart.

“You, my man, are WHIPPED.”

Whipped. Maybe Shintaro’s right. But then again, maybe it’s more than that.

As the elevator door opens, Juri takes a deep breath, willing his nerves to calm. He steps into the lobby, the elegance of the design a stark contrast to the tumultuous storm of emotions within him.

And then Juri sees him.

Taiga.

He’s standing there, as beautiful as ever, his presence commanding and undeniably attractive. His eyes meet Juri’s, and it’s like a punch to the gut. The familiar spark, the connection that has always been there, it’s still alive.

It’s still there.

“Hey,” Taiga greets. “You’re here.”

Juri swallows hard, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, I … uh … Shin and Hokuto are celebrating with us.”

He watches as relief washes over Taiga, a visible relaxation of his taut shoulders. Juri can’t help but feel a pang of hurt. Is he relieved to have others here? Is his presence that unbearable?

But he swallows the hurt, pushes it down deep within him. This isn’t about him. This is about them. This is about finding a way to navigate through the wreckage of their relationship, to find a new normal.

“We should get going,” he says, pushing down the hurt, the confusion, the longing. He forces a smile, his heart pounding in his chest.

The pulsating music of their favorite band fills the cavernous Tokyo Dome, bodies moving in sync with the rhythm, faces flushed with exhilaration. The air is thick with the scents of sweat and cheap perfume, but somehow, it all fades into the background when Juri looks at Taiga.

Taiga’s lost in the music, head thrown back, hair slick with sweat. His eyes are closed, his lips moving in sync with the lyrics. It’s pure, it’s real, it’s Taiga in his most unguarded moment, and it’s beautiful.

Juri feels protective, in a way he hasn’t felt before. It’s an emotion foreign to him but feels instinctual, a visceral response to their shared space in the mosh pit. Taiga, despite his quiet confidence, seems vulnerable here, in a sea of frenzied fans.

The crowd moves like a single entity, swaying, jumping, a chaotic ballet of youthful energy. Juri and Taiga, they’re part of this, yet apart. Two bodies tethered together by an invisible thread of connection that he can’t name yet.

When did this start? This strange, exhilarating feeling that rushes through him whenever Taiga is around. Was it during one of their late-night meetings for the social impact initiative, when their conversations would meander from schoolwork to their dreams and fears? Or was it that time they sat under the stars, sharing a silence that spoke volumes?

Juri’s not sure, and it scares him. He fears what this could mean, what this could lead to. He’s seen friendships ruined by misguided emotions, by love that bloomed in the wrong place at the wrong time. He can’t let it happen to them, to what they have.

But then the band slows down, their next song a tender melody that echoes through the dome. It’s a love song, a soft confession of feelings hidden beneath layers of fear and uncertainty.

Taiga turns to him, their eyes meet, and something shifts. In his gaze, Juri sees a mirror of his own feelings, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that has been growing between them. They’re drawn closer, the crowd and the music fading into a distant hum. The world narrows down to just them, to the space between their bodies, to the heat radiating from Taiga’s skin.

And then Juri leans in, heart pounding in his chest, drowning out the music, the cheering crowd, the voice in his head that’s screaming caution. Their lips meet in a shared rhythm that outpaces the band, a connection that is more intimate, more potent than any song.

The rest of the concert is a blur, the music a backdrop to the symphony playing in Juri’s heart. They hold hands as they leave the venue, their fingers entwined in a silent promise, a quiet admission of what they’ve just shared.

At the bridge that marks their separate ways, Juri finds the courage to ask Taiga. “Do you want to stay at my place?” He tries to keep his voice casual, but the undercurrent of anticipation gives him away.

Taiga looks at him, his eyes softer under the streetlights, and he nods. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Back at Juri’s apartment, the stark contrast between the minimalist setup and the complexity of their situation is not lost on him. The adrenaline of the concert has faded, replaced by a simmering tension that threatens to consume them.

They stand at the threshold, their eyes meeting in silent understanding. Then, almost in unison, they close the gap. Their kiss is passionate, fervent, a storm that’s been brewing for far too long. Hands wander, bodies respond, and the quiet of the night is broken by whispers of surrender.

As they fall into a rhythm as intimate as the music they’ve danced to, Juri realizes he’s crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed. The consequences, the risks, the potential heartbreak, they all loom in the background.

But now, as Taiga’s hands trace a path of desire, as their breaths mingle in the dimly lit room, all Juri can think of is this.

The moment of surrender, of acceptance, of letting go. The moment of them.

And even as Juri’s mind is filled with questions and doubts, his heart beats a single truth. This feels right. This feels like home.

And as they fall into a silence that’s punctuated by their ragged breaths, he can’t help but wonder if Taiga feels the same way too.

For now, though, the words remain unspoken, their feelings laid bare only in the language of touch and shared glances. As the night deepens and the consequences of their actions loom larger, Juri clings onto the silence and the comfort of Taiga’s body next to his. The answers, he decides, can wait for another day.

For now, all he wants, all he needs, is Taiga. And in the quiet of his apartment, as the chill paints frost on the windows, that’s more than enough for him.

The ride to Hokuto and Shintaro’s apartment is a silent one. The city lights streak past them in a blur, their bright colors reflecting off the wet streets. Taiga sits next to him, the familiar smell of his cologne filling a car. It’s a scent Juri has missed. A scent that still lingers in the corners of his apartment, of his memories.

The extravagance of Hokuto and Shintaro’s apartment never fails to amaze him. An artful mix of bold colors, playful geometries, and ornate furniture that feels as alive as its occupants. Shintaro, ever the exuberant, has already begun sorting through his extensive collection of Christmas movies. Hokuto, on the other hand, is busy in the kitchen, the rich aroma of food wafting through the air.

As Juri steps into the kitchen to help, he catches a glint of something on Hokuto’s finger. It’s an engagement ring, one that Shintaro had shown him a week prior to him popping the question.

Hokuto merely chuckles. “We’re still working on wedding plans,” he says, a broad smile spreading across his face. “It’s hard to find time with our hectic schedules.”

Shifting his gaze, Juri spots Taiga, now deep in conversation with Shintaro over movie selections. Despite the pleasant chatter, he can sense Taiga’s unease. Taiga has always found it hard to fit in with Shintaro’s enthusiastic spirit.

But Juri invited him here. It was the least he could do, to alleviate the impending loneliness of a Christmas spent alone. Or was it because he was selfish? Because he still cared?

Hokuto must sense his thoughts because he gives Juri a knowing look. “You still care about him, don’t you, Juri?”

Juri shrugs. “Taiga at least needs proof he didn’t spend Christmas alone,” he says.

Hokuto’s gaze is steady on his. “You can’t lie to yourself forever, Juri.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. Juri stares at the pot on the stove, his thoughts running wild. “It’s my fault,” he admits. “I was the one who broke it off. I was the one who couldn’t commit. Who didn’t want to get married. Because I was scared. Scared of turning into my father. Scared of causing the same pain that tore my mother apart.”

Hokuto’s face softens. He doesn’t say anything for a while. And then, “Have you talked to Taiga about this?”

Juri nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “He knows about my parents. But …”

“But you haven’t explained why you’re not ready to get married,” Hokuto finishes for him. It’s not a question. It’s a statement. A fact.

Hokuto’s right. Juri hasn’t been fair to Taiga. He hasn’t given him the chance to understand Juri’s fears, to share Juri’s pain. He’s been too caught up in his own perspective, too afraid to consider Taiga’s feelings.

Hokuto’s next words hit Juri like a punch in the gut. “Taiga adores you, Juri. And he wants to marry you not because he’s obligated to or because society thinks you’re supposed to. It’s because he loves you. Truly and deeply.”

The thought leaves Juri breathless. Taiga loves him. He wants to spend the rest of his life with Juri. He wants to marry Juri. Not because he’s supposed to, but because he wants to.

Because Taiga chooses him.

“I … I don’t know what to do,” Juri admits, his voice barely a whisper.

Hokuto gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Only you and Taiga can decide what’s best for you.”

Their conversation is interrupted by the timer on the stove. The food is ready.

As they start serving, Juri finds himself stealing glances at Taiga. He’s laughing at something Shintaro said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

He can’t help the flutter in his chest. It’s a sight he’s missed.

“No relationship is guaranteed forever, Juri.” Hokuto’s voice brings him back to his thoughts. His eyes hold a quiet wisdom as he continues. “But it’s just a matter of whether you think he’s worth the risk. Whether you’re willing to choose Taiga despite it.”

As Juri watches Taiga, bathed in the soft glow of the apartment lights, he can’t help but ask himself.

Am I willing to take the risk? To choose him, despite everything?

The moment the apartment door closes behind them, it’s as though a bubble bursts. The warmth of Hokuto and Shintaro’s apartment dissipates, replaced by the chill of the night. Christmas Day has come and gone, leaving behind a silence that swallows them whole.

“I-I hope you had fun tonight, Taiga,” Juri begins, his gaze fixed on the steering wheel.

The corners of his eyes catch the soft glow of the dashboard illuminating Taiga’s features. He’s quiet, too quiet, and Juri feels a pang in his chest.

Taiga doesn’t answer right away. His eyes are far away, lost in the glow of the streetlights they pass. Juri watches him from the corner of his eye, his heart beating a desperate rhythm against his ribs.

After a moment, he turns to Juri, a small smile playing on his lips. “I did,” he says, his voice barely audible over the hum of the car engine. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, flicking through the pictures they took earlier.

There’s one picture that makes him pause, his fingers lingering over the screen. It’s a candid shot of them, captured by Shintaro amidst their laughter. They’re leaning into each other, their smiles so wide they crinkle their eyes.

In that moment, they look … happy. It’s a happiness Juri can’t remember feeling, a moment he can’t remember living. Because he was too caught up in his fears, his insecurities, his ghosts.

The silence stretches on, the only sound the soft hum of the car engine. Juri swallows, his throat tight. The words are there, at the tip of my tongue, but he can’t bring myself to voice them. Instead, he reaches out and turns on the radio, letting the familiar voice of the DJ fill the void.

And then, the soft strum of a guitar fills the car, followed by a voice Juri knows all too well. It’s their song. The song that was playing when they shared their first kiss all those years ago at the concert.

Juri freezes, his hand still on the dial. He’s about to change the station when Taiga’s hand covers his, his fingers curling gently around his wrist.

“Leave it,” he says, his voice softer than Juri has ever heard it. His gaze is locked on the screen on his phone, on the picture of them, their smiles frozen in time.

Juri’s heart aches at the sight of Taiga, the sadness in his eyes mirrored in the soft croon of the singer. It’s a tangible reminder of the distance between them, the void he’s created. And as the city lights pass by them in a blur, he can’t help but wonder if it’s too late. If he’s pushed him too far, hurt him too much.

The song comes to an end, replaced by the low hum of the radio DJ’s voice. Taiga releases Juri’s hand, turning to stare out at the window once more.

The silence returns, consuming them once again.

The clinking of fine china and murmur of distant conversations create a symphony of subtle elegance around them. They are at a posh restaurant celebrating their seventh year together—seven years of love, laughter, fights, and reconciliation.

Seven years of Juri and Taiga.

Taiga, with his dashing smile and the way his eyes light up when he talks about his architectural designs. Kyomoto Taiga, the man he’s come to love with all his heart.

Taiga raises a glass, the faint, golden champagne swirling inside. “To us, Juri,” he toasts, his voice steady but his eyes, those depths Juri has come to lose himself in, reflecting a hint of trepidation.

“To us,” Juri echoes, clinking his glass against Taiga’s.

And there, in the middle of an upscale restaurant on a chilly December night, they celebrate them. Seven years of them.

But amid the clinking of glasses and the nostalgic smile playing on Taiga’s lips, Juri can’t help but feel a pang of dread coiling in the pit of his stomach. Because he knows what’s coming. He knows what this night holds, and he’s not sure he’s ready to face it.

The memory of the divorce papers sitting on the kitchen table, the way his mother’s eyes lost their light, haunts Juri. It chills him more than the wind outside.

Marriage, a word that brings joy and warmth to others, is nothing but a cold, haunting echo in his life. An echo that stirs up the ghosts of his parents’ failed marriage and the bitter residue it left behind.

Taiga knows about his parents. He knows about Juri’s reluctance, his fears.

But Juri can see it in his eyes, the unspoken wish, the silent plea for Juri to reconsider. And it scares him, because what if he can’t give Taiga what he wants? What if his fear of marriage becomes a wedge between them? A wedge that may eventually tear them apart?

“So,” Taiga starts, bringing Juri back from his spiraling thoughts. His voice is light, but his eyes give him away. “Have you thought about … you know …?”

His question hangs in the air, a delicate crystal chandelier hanging by a thread, threatening to shatter and scatter its pieces all around them. All Juri can do is stare at him, trapped in this moment, trapped between his love for Taiga and his fear of what Taiga’s asking for.

“I …” Juri begins, his voice barely a whisper. He can see the hope flickering in Taiga’s eyes, like a lone candle fighting against a gust of wind. “I don’t see the need for it, Taiga.”

His words, simple and straightforward, hang in the air like a dense fog, muting the surrounding conversations, dimming the elegant chandelier overhead. There’s a hitch in Taiga’s breath, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. But it’s quickly replaced by a mask of understanding.

“I see,” he says, his voice tight but his smile in place. “As long as we love each other, right?”

Juri nods, relief washing over him. He reaches across the table, taking Taiga’s hand in his, reassuring him. Reassuring himself. “That’s all that matters to me, Taiga.”

There’s silence between them, a silence that isn’t comfortable anymore. Juri sees the forced smile on Taiga’s face, and his heart clenches.

Have I disappointed him?

But then, he’s nodding, squeezing Juri’s hand back, a genuine smile replacing the forced one. “You’re right, Juri,” he says. “As long as we love each other, that’s all that matters.”

And just like that, the tension breaks. They return to their meal, to the jokes and the laughter, to the clinking of glasses and the hum of surrounding conversations. But beneath the surface, beneath the shared smiles and laughter, Juri can’t help but wonder.

Have I hurt him? Have I denied him something he truly wants?

In the hushed silence of Taiga’s apartment, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat is the only constant. It resonates in his ears, the occasional swish of his hand against the fabric and the unsteady pull of his breath adding a counterpoint. His gaze moves restlessly over the luggage splayed open on the bed, his mind teetering on the precipice of chaos.

Everything’s here, the checklist says so, but the anxious churn in his gut insists on another scan. Another check. Another moment to delay the inevitable.

Taiga peers into the suitcase, hands skimming over neatly pressed shirts and carefully folded trousers. Why does it feel like he’s missing something vital?

Maybe it’s not in the luggage. Maybe it’s something he left behind a month ago when he and Juri—

Stop it, Taiga. Now is not the time.

He tears his gaze away from the suitcase and glances around the apartment—a mausoleum of past moments, past laughter, past love. Its geometrical elegance and abstract décor, a reflection of his architectural mindset, offer cold comfort tonight. Shadows dance on the gleaming surfaces and the emptiness seems to swell, pushing against the walls, pressing in on him. He can almost see him here, the soft smile of Juri, in stark contrast against the apartment’s calculated intricacy.

“Pull it together,” Taiga mutters, his voice a harsh scratch in the echoing quiet. But the echoes are a poor substitute for Juri’s gentle laughter. Will he ever stop missing that?

His phone rings, cutting through the noise in his head. Juri. Of course. He’s in the parking lot.

He stares at the screen, his heartbeat pounding a wild rhythm in his chest. He needs to get it together. He needs to keep it together. For one weekend. For Ryosuke’s wedding.

Taiga swallows the lump forming in his throat, his voice emerging shaky as he answers. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be right down.”

The words are a façade, a mask, a brittle attempt at normality. How can it be normal when every word feels like a betrayal? When every glance will be a lie? When every smile will be a performance?

He ends the call and sits for a moment, staring at his reflection in the darkened screen. What are you doing, Taiga?

But he already knows the answer. He’s doing this for Ryosuke, for his family, for … Juri. He’s doing this because he’s still in love with him.

He can’t shake the feeling that somehow, he’s failed. Should he have given up on his desire for marriage? Should he have accepted Juri’s perspective?

Taiga’s reflection blurs as he squeezes his eyes shut, pushing away the rush of regret. No, that wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. Juri deserves someone who can accept his views wholeheartedly, and Taiga … he deserves someone who wants the same things as he does.

But damn, it’s hard. It’s hard when his laughter still echoes in Taiga’s ears, his warmth still lingers in this apartment, his absence still feels like a phantom limb. How can he pretend that nothing’s changed when everything has?

Taiga pushes himself up. He can’t let Juri see him like this. Can’t let him see the cracks in his façade, the way his heart clenches at the sound of Juri’s voice, the way his skin yearns for Juri’s touch. He needs to be composed.

His movements are mechanical as he zips up the suitcase, every click of the zipper a reminder of the act he’s about to play. Juri’s waiting. He’s probably humming a tune or checking his work calendar. He’s always been good at that, at moving on, at leaving things behind.

He’s so good at it, he left Taiga behind.

As Taiga picks up the luggage, his grip tightens around the handle, the cold metal biting into his skin. An anchor. A reminder.

You can do this, Taiga.

The heady perfume of the blooming cherry blossom trees fills the air, their petals painting a vivid blush against the sky as they float down, showering the quad of the university in a delicate blanket of pink. There’s a hum of excitement, joy, and uncertainty that reverberates around the campus. It’s a perfect spring day, a perfect graduation day.

And yet, as Taiga stands here in his graduation gown and cap, holding his degree, he feels like he’s standing at the edge of a precipice, on the brink of an unfathomable chasm of what-comes-next.

He’s surrounded by laughter and camaraderie, and yet it’s Juri’s face he seeks in the crowd. The sound of his laughter, the sparkle in his eyes. Three months they’ve been together, yet it feels like a lifetime.

In a good way. In the best way.

It’s like he’s been the missing piece all along.

Taiga’s friends envelop him, their congratulations and good-natured ribbing a welcome distraction. They’re excited, and he shares their elation, their hard work finally paying off. They’ve earned this. He’s earned this.

But as they talk and laugh, his thoughts circle back to Juri. Where is he?

And then, like an answer to an unspoken question, Taiga sees him. He’s standing by a cherry blossom tree, a bouquet in his hands, his eyes scanning the crowd. His gaze meets Taiga’s, a smile playing on his lips. The world tilts on its axis and all the noise, the laughter, the chatter fades into insignificance.

Juri comes towards him, the crowd parting for him, his presence magnetic. He’s the sun, and Taiga’s just a humble planet in this orbit.

“Congratulations, Taiga,” he says, his voice a melody that resonates in Taiga’s very bones. He hands Taiga the bouquet, its fragrance mingling with the cherry blossoms.

And then Juri leans in, pressing his lips to Taiga’s. It’s a chaste kiss, a celebration, a promise. The world fades away, it’s just Juri and him.

Them. The thought sends a thrill through him, like the first sip of a hot drink on a cold day. Warm. Comforting. Home.

Suddenly, the moment is broken as Taiga hears familiar voices. His family. His heart skips a beat. He turns, pulling Juri with him.

His mother is the first to break the silence. Her smile is gentle. “So this is Juri?” she asks, her eyes twinkling. “Taiga hasn’t stopped talking about you.”

Taiga can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. Ryosuke and Shunsuke join in the teasing, their laughter light and infectious. Juri’s laughing too, a sound that sends warmth coursing through Taiga’s veins. It’s a surreal moment, the two halves of his world converging. He can’t help but feel a sense of rightness.

“Would you join us for dinner, Juri?” his mother asks, her voice gentle and welcoming.

Juri looks at Taiga, his eyes searching his. Taiga nods, his heart swelling. Yes. This is right. This is where Juri belongs. With Taiga. With them.

As they walk to the family apartment, Taiga can’t help but look at Juri. His laughter mingles with Taiga’s family’s, his smile as bright as the cherry blossoms under the spring sky.

Is it possible? Could Juri be part of this family, too?

Taiga watches him, Juri’s arm brushing against his, his presence a soothing balm. Yes, it’s possible.

More than possible.

The car hums with a gentle vibration, the smooth road under them a mere whisper in the otherwise quiet interior. The skyline of the city is left behind, replaced by the sprawling urbanity that gradually gives way to the countryside as they drive from Tokyo to Mie. Taiga sits in the passenger seat, his gaze firmly locked on the seemingly endless road before them. The awkward silence in the car is only broken by the occasional hum of a song on Juri’s Spotify playlist or the monotonous instruction from the GPS.

As the miles roll by, the silence begins to weigh heavy. The air feels thick with unexpressed words, unexpressed feelings. He needs to break it. He clears his throat, the sound echoing in the enclosed space.

“Juri,” Taiga begins, turning to look at the man sitting next to him.

Juri’s eyebrows lift in a silent invitation for him to continue.

“The wedding weekend,” Taiga says, his voice strained. “We … we really have to sell it.”

As he says this, a wave of emotions crash over him. The memory of their seven years together, the painful recollection of their breakup, the contrasting reality of the situation they find themselves now. It’s overwhelming.

Juri’s silence is a stark contrast to Taiga’s turbulent thoughts. He’s gazing at the road ahead, his hands steady on the wheel. “What happens after?” he finally asks.

Taiga feels a tightening sensation in his stomach. “After what?”

“After the wedding, when do you plan to tell them we’re no longer together?” Juri’s question hangs heavy in the air.

Taiga clenches his jaw, frustration simmering under the surface. “I was thinking, maybe a few weeks after the New Year. I’ll make up some story,” he says, each word laced with a hint of bitterness. “Does that make you happy?”

Juri doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze still locked on the road. “I’m not the bad guy here, Taiga. I didn’t ask for this,” he says, his voice quiet.

Taiga rolls his eyes, anger flaring within him. But it’s not directed at Juri. He can’t be mad at him. After all, he’s the one doing him a favor. A favor that he gains nothing from, save for the promise of a hotel wing design Taiga had been pulled in to create.

It’s unlikely Juri will keep in touch with Taiga’s family after this week. In truth, Juri’s doing more than a favor. He’s sparing Taiga from the embarrassment and intrusive questions. It’s this realization that has Taiga mumbling a begrudging, “Thanks.”

At a red light, Juri turns to look at him, confusion etched across his face. “For what?”

“For this,” Taiga replies, gesturing vaguely around them. “For agreeing to spend a weekend with your ex-boyfriend’s family. I didn’t properly thank you before.”

The light turns green and Juri turns away, accelerating the car. “I don’t mind as much as I probably should,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

The road stretches out before them, Mie still four hours away. They fall back into silence, the only sound being the low hum of the car and the occasional navigation instruction.

The bright, piercing sunlight reflecting off the pristine snow wakes Taiga from a brief nap. He blinks slowly, adjusting his eyes to the light. Through the haze of sleep, he glances over at Juri, his eyes shielded by sunglasses. Taiga doesn’t comment on it, instead turning his gaze out of the window.

It’s strange, the little things that still tie them together. The familiar tunes playing from Juri’s playlist. Some things have remained the same; the music is one of them. It’s a small comfort, a reminder of a past that had once been filled with love. Only Taiga would know about these things, these small details that constitute Juri.

The silence isn’t as oppressive anymore. Taiga finds himself relaxing into it, the tension ebbing away.

Then, a particular song starts playing, a song that makes his heart skip a beat. It’s a pop song, and he remembers asking Juri once why he liked it, given that Juri was more of a hip-hop person. Juri’s response was to smile at him, entwining their hands and laying them on his thigh. He’d said that the song reminded him of Taiga. It was a confession that had filled Taiga with such warmth, such affection.

The lyrics hit Taiga differently now, resonating in a way that’s too painful. When the song ends, Taiga finds himself reaching out to restart it. It’s a masochistic desire, perhaps.

Juri raises an eyebrow in question but doesn’t say anything. But before Taiga can replay the song, Juri changes it. The sudden action stings, a small, petty hurt. Taiga brushes it off, clenching his jaw.

“Can we stop for gas?” Juri asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

Taiga nods, glad for the chance to stretch his legs. He offers to pay, remembering their agreement at breakfast last week. Juri simply nods again, his focus back on the road.

Taiga steps out of the car, the cold air biting into his skin. As he walks towards the gas station, he contemplates buying Juri’s favorite snack, a small gesture. It’s surprising how well he knows Juri, how familiar he is with his likes and dislikes.

From the window of the gas station, he sees Juri standing by the car, looking out at the snow. He’s always been beautiful, in an understated, unassuming way. He’s not typically the type to draw attention, his quietness making him all the more endearing.

As Taiga watches him, Juri turns to look in his direction. Taiga quickly ducks, avoiding his gaze. His heart is pounding, a quick, nervous rhythm. With a weak smile, he grabs some snacks and hurries to the cashier.

Taiga reminds himself again, he’s here to pretend. To pretend to still be in love with Juri. To pretend that they’re still together. But the truth is far from it. It’s hard, pretending not to hurt when all he feels is the deep, gnawing ache of a heartbreak.

Seven years. Seven years they had been together, and it had ended over their differing views on marriage. It still hurts, thinking about it.

There are still two more hours left till they reach Mie. Two more hours for Taiga to pull himself together, to prepare for the charade they would have to play. Two more hours to steel himself for the upcoming weekend.

It’s eleven in the morning when they finally arrive at the resort. Relief washes over Taiga as Juri kills the engine, leaning back in his seat as he takes in the sight before him. The luxury of the place is a stark contrast to the simplicity of the journey that led them here.

He’d been here before, had even been the one to check in his parents for their 30th wedding anniversary. That memory brings a warm sense of familiarity, a homecoming of sorts. It’s strange, Taiga thinks, how even amidst the turbulence of his emotions, he finds himself excited.

With their overnight bags in tow, they make their way towards the lobby. They’re greeted warmly by the staff, their welcome as warm and inviting as the surrounding scenery.

Their suite is no less impressive. It commands a partial view of the sea, the expansive deck and private garden blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings. Inside, the room features a comfortable king-sized bed, a separate dining corner, and a day bed. The floor-to-ceiling windows allow for generous views of the surrounding nature while letting in the sea breeze.

“I’ll take the day bed,” Juri volunteers as he parks his bag next to the furniture in question.

Taiga raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “There’s enough space for the both of us on the bed,” he says. “It’s not like we’ll be sleeping with each other.”

The words hang in the air between them, and for a moment, all they can do is stare at each other, the silence stretching on.

The shrill ring of the hotel phone interrupts the tense moment. Taiga walks over to pick it up, and the manager’s voice informs him that his family is waiting for them at the restaurant. He hangs up, turning to face Juri.

“We should get ready,” he announces.

And with that, they begin to prepare for the charade they have to play. The stage is set, and all that's left is for them to step into their roles.

It’s a clear spring day, cherry blossoms in full bloom, painting the city with delicate shades of pink. Taiga stands in the chapel. He is the best man at Yugo’s wedding, his best friend since their college days, the one who’d been there through thick and thin.

He watches as Yugo and Jesse exchange their vows, love shining in their eyes. He watches as they promise each other a lifetime of love, a lifetime of togetherness. And he can’t help but imagine himself standing in Yugo’ shoes. Can’t help but imagine Juri standing across from him, looking at him the same way Jesse is looking at Yugo.

He knows that Juri doesn’t see the need for marriage. They had talked about it one Christmas, a casual conversation that had left Taiga’s heart heavy with unspoken desires.

Taiga looks over at Juri, who’s seated among the guests, watching the ceremony unfold. He sees him clapping as Yugo and Jesse share their first kiss as a married couple. He sees him smiling, happy for their friends. But he also sees a hint of sadness in his eyes. A hint of something that tells Taiga he’s thinking about the same things he is.

Juri’s parents had divorced when he was young, a messy split that had affected him and his brothers. It had left him with a deep-seated belief that marriage does not guarantee happiness. And Taiga understands that. He understands Juri’s fears, his reservations.

But that doesn’t stop him from wanting it. From wanting to call Juri his husband. From wanting to promise him a lifetime of love and togetherness. From wanting to share his life with him, in every sense of the word.

He wants to tell Juri all of this, wants to pour his heart out to him. But he can’t. Not here, not now. So he stores these thoughts, these feelings, away. He hides them behind a smile, behind a mask of calm and composure.

As the ceremony ends and the guests move towards the banquet hall, Taiga finds himself standing alone in the chapel. He takes a moment to breathe, to collect his thoughts. He looks around, his gaze lingering on the altar, on the spot where Yugo and Jesse had just vowed to spend their lives together.

And he thinks about Juri. He thinks about the love they share, the bond they’ve built over the past years. He thinks about their shared dreams, their shared memories. He thinks about how he’s never been happier than he is when he’s with Juri.

But he also thinks about the future, about what it holds for them. He thinks about his dreams of marriage, of a family. He thinks about Juri’s fears, his reservations.

And he wonders. He wonders if Juri will ever change his mind. He wonders if he’ll ever get to call Juri his husband. He wonders if they’ll ever have their own ceremony, their own wedding.

And he hopes. He hopes with all his heart that one day, they will. That one day, Juri will see the beauty in their love, the strength in their bond. That one day, he’ll understand that marriage isn’t about guarantees, it’s about promises. Promises of love, promises of togetherness.

And as he stands there, lost in his thoughts, lost in his hopes and fears, he realizes something. He realizes that he’s willing to wait. He's willing to wait as long as he has to, for Juri to be ready.

Because he knows, deep down, that Juri is worth the wait. That their love is worth the wait.

So he takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and steps out of the chapel. He joins the others in the banquet hall, his heart heavy but hopeful. He joins in their laughter, their celebration. He raises a toast to Yugo and Jesse, to love and happiness.

And he steals a glance at Juri, his heart skipping a beat as their eyes meet. He sees the same love, the same warmth in his eyes that he feels in his heart. And he knows, right then and there, that he’s made the right choice. That he's willing to wait, for as long as it takes.

Because Juri is worth it. Because their love is worth it.

They stand in the hallway outside the restaurant, gathering their thoughts before entering. Taiga breaks the silence. “Let’s hold hands. It’ll make it more believable.”

Juri hesitates for a moment, but then he nods and reaches out to take Taiga’s hand in his. Their fingers intertwine, and he feels a jolt of warmth spread through him. It’s both familiar and foreign.

As they step into the restaurant, the traditional decor and soft lighting create an atmosphere of elegance and anticipation. The place is relatively empty at this hour, as the guests are yet to arrive for the wedding celebration. They scan the room and spot Taiga’s family at a table near the window. Kanna, Ryosuke’s fiancée, is already seated with them.

Taiga leads the way, his grip on Juri’s hand tight and purposeful. They approach the table, and Hiromi, Taiga’s mother, spots them. Her face lights up with joy as she jumps up from her seat, rushing over to embrace Taiga in a tight hug.

“Taiga, my dear! It’s so good to see you!” She releases him and then turns to Juri, enveloping him in a warm embrace. “Juri, it’s been too long! How have you been?”

Juri returns her hug, feeling a mix of gratitude and guilt. Hiromi has always been the most welcoming and loving member of Taiga’s family. “I’ve been well, Hiromi-san. Thank you for having us here today.”

Masaki, Taiga’s father, stands up and extends his hand towards me. “Juri, good to see you. It’s been a while.”

Juri shakes his hand, feeling a tinge of unease in his firm grip. Masaki’s gaze lingers on him for a moment, as if he’s trying to read something beneath the surface.

Ryosuke and Shunsuke, Taiga’s brothers, also rise from their seats to greet them. They each give Juri a one-armed hug.

“Juri, good to have you here,” Ryosuke says with a warm smile.

“Yeah, we almost thought you wouldn’t show up,” Shunsuke remarks, raising an eyebrow as he looks between Juri and Taiga, as if noticing that something is off with them.

Taiga quickly interjects. “Oh, it’s nothing. Juri’s been busy with work lately. You know how it is.”

Juri plays along, offering a reassuring smile. “Yeah, things have been hectic, holiday season and all. But we’re here now, ready to celebrate Ryosuke and Kanna’s big day.”

Hiromi claps her hands together, her eyes shining with excitement. “That’s right! Let’s not waste any more time. Sit down, you two. Lunch is about to be served.”

They take their seats at the table, facing Ryosuke and Kanna. The conversation flows naturally, blending with the soft melodies playing in the background. Masaki asks Juri about his work, inquiring about the events at the hotel. Juri answers with practiced ease, his words flowing effortlessly.

Hiromi joins in, sharing stories of her own adventures and asking about their apartment and life together. Juri and Taiga exchange glances, their eyes betraying the unspoken truth between them. They play their parts, pretending that everything is as it should be.

Shunsuke, ever perceptive, leans in closer, his voice hushed. “You guys seem different today. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

Taiga leans in towards Juri, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek. “Of course, everything’s fine, Shunsuke. Stop being paranoid.”

Juri leans back, his heart aching with conflicting emotions. How can they continue this façade, pretending that everything is normal?

As the lunch comes to an end, Hiromi informs them about the upcoming wedding rehearsals at the rock garden. She turns to Juri with a hopeful smile. “Juri, dear, would you mind helping me with some last-minute preparations?”

Juri nods. “Of course, Hiromi-san. I’ll be glad to help.”

Ryosuke and Kanna stand up, ready to leave the restaurant for a while to pick up Kanna’s parents. Kanna gives us a knowing smile. “We’ll be back later for the rehearsals. Take your time and enjoy the rest of the day.”

As they make their exit, a sense of unease settles within me. How long can he keep up this charade, knowing that my heart longs for something more?

But so far, so good.

The event hall is transformed into a winter wonderland, adorned with twinkling fairy lights and elegant floral arrangements. The air is filled with the scent of fresh flowers and anticipation. Snowflakes drift gently from the sky outside, adding to the magical atmosphere.

The wedding planner, a poised and graceful woman, introduces herself to the group and begins directing everyone to their respective positions. Her voice carries a sense of authority as she outlines the ceremony and the order of events. She glides through the hall, ensuring that every detail is perfect.

Juri watches her with a mix of admiration and unease. As an event planner himself, he appreciates the meticulousness and artistry that goes into creating such a beautiful occasion. But today, his heart is heavy. It always is when it comes to weddings. He hated them, but he’s in that age where everyone he knows is having them. It’s like it’s a constant reminder that he could be next, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever have one.

The planner pauses, her gaze sweeping over the room. “Now, we need someone to stand in for the bride and groom during the rehearsal. While they’re still not here, so I can explain what’s going on. Can anyone step forward?” she asks.

Shunsuke nudges Taiga forward. “Taiga and Juri can do it,” he announces, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Taiga gives Juri a half-hearted smile, and together they walk towards the altar. They stand facing each other, their bodies close. The wedding planner addresses Taiga’s family, explaining the procession and the exchange of vows that will take place.

As the planner’s voice washes over them, Juri can’t help but wonder what Taiga is feeling in this moment. Is he imagining a wedding between them, a future that Juri’s been too scared to embrace? Does he secretly long for the same promises and commitment that he yearns for?

Juri’s mind drifts to a vision of them standing here, their eyes filled with unspoken emotions, their hearts finally aligned. He imagines the tender words they would exchange, the promises that would bind them together.

Would Taiga cry? Or would it be Juri, overwhelmed by the weight of his love?

The planner smiles at them when she instructs them to step down from the altar. “Well, you two make a lovely couple,” she remarks, cheerfulness in her voice.

Juri forces a smile. “Thank you,” he replies.

Taiga nods in agreement as he loops his arm around Juri’s. “Yeah, we make a great team,” he says, his voice betraying nothing of the conflict probably raging within him.

The wedding planner moves on to other tasks, leaving Juri and Taiga standing there. Taiga then pulls away and excuses himself, claiming a need to use the restroom.

Juri just stands there, surrounded by the trappings of a joyous celebration, forced to confront his own fears and uncertainties.

The apartment that Juri and Taiga share is an amalgamation of their personalities, a harmonious blend of practicality and aesthetics. The floors are a deep, rich mahogany, and the walls are adorned with Taiga’s architectural sketches and Juri’s vibrant concert posters. The bookshelf is a chaotic mix of architecture texts and event planning manuals, while the coffee table is littered with color swatches and building blueprints.

Despite the disarray, there’s an inherent coziness in their home—a lived-in warmth that permeates every corner. It’s the kind of place that makes you feel welcome the moment you step in, like you’ve been pulled into an embrace. This is their home, their sanctuary, their refuge from the world.

Living together has its highs and lows. Some days, it feels like they're floating on cloud nine, basking in the glow of shared dreams and morning cuddles. Other days, the stark reality of cohabitation rears its head, and they find themselves squabbling over whose turn it is to do the dishes or why Taiga always leaves his socks lying around. Yet, despite the occasional disagreements, the highs far outweigh the lows.

It’s an autumn evening, and the air is crisp with the promise of a change in seasons. Juri sits on the couch, a steaming mug of tea in his hands. His heart beats a tattoo of nervous anticipation in his chest, as he prepares to broach a topic he’s been avoiding for a while.

“Taiga,” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, “my mother’s birthday is coming up, and I … I want you to come with me to my childhood home.”

Taiga’s face lights up at the invitation, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight. “Of course, Juri. I’d love to meet your family.” His excitement is palpable, and he starts asking about Juri’s parents, about his brothers, painting a mental picture of the family he’s about to meet.

Juri watches Taiga, his heart heavy with nervousness. Taiga is the first boyfriend he’s bringing home, and the thought fills him with a strange mix of dread and excitement. He’s not sure how Taiga will react to his broken family, to the father who left them all behind.

“Dad left us when I was a kid,” Juri admits, his voice tremulous. “He left the divorce papers on the kitchen table and walked away, without a word.”

The admission hangs heavy in the room, a stark reminder of a past that still haunts him. “Looking back,” he continues, his gaze locked on his steaming mug, “it was better than listening to him and Mom argue every day.” He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, “We … my brothers and I … we’re happier now. We’ve moved on. But I just … I wanted you to know.”

Taiga pulls Juri into his arms, holding him close. “Thank you for telling me, Juri. I know it wasn’t easy for you,” he whispers into his ear, his voice filled with understanding, with empathy. “Is there anything I can do?”

Juri leans into Taiga’s embrace, his heart thrumming against Taiga’s chest. He closes his eyes, savoring the warmth, the safety, the love. “Just being here is enough,” he murmurs.

Their lips meet in a tender kiss, a promise of unwavering support, of shared burdens, of enduring love. Taiga pulls back, his eyes locking onto Juri’s. “I’m not going anywhere, Juri,” he promises, his voice firm, his gaze unwavering.

And in that moment, amidst the quiet comfort of their apartment, amidst the promise of a future together, Juri believes him. He believes in their love, in their resilience, in their shared dreams.

And for now, that belief, that faith, is enough.

The rehearsal dinner progresses, and Juri finds himself lost in a sea of conversations and laughter. The chatter around him fades into the background as his thoughts consume him. The weight of their pretense—this charade of love they must uphold for the sake of appearances—becomes unbearable.

As the night wears on, Juri notices the glances of Taiga’s family, their expectant smiles and well-meaning inquiries about the wedding. Each question is like a dagger to Juri’s heart, a reminder of his inability to give Taiga what he desires most. He feels suffocated, trapped in a web of expectations and false promises.

As the night progresses, the weight of the charade becomes too heavy for Juri to bear. The rehearsals have only heightened the ache in his heart, reminding me of what he’s lost and what he may never have again. Each loving gesture, each sweet smile shared between Taiga and him, feels like a betrayal, a lie that threatens to unravel at any moment.

Juri continues to play the part, their hands intertwined, his arm draped casually around Taiga’s waist. The words of congratulations and well wishes wash over them, but they ring hollow in his ears.

How can I pretend to be happy when my heart is breaking?

As the evening progresses, they find themselves in the company of Taiga’s aunt, a woman with a striking resemblance to his mother. She welcomes Juri warmly, her eyes shining with genuine interest.

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you! Hiromi has told us so much about you.”

Juri blushes at that. “Thank you, it’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”

“How long have you been together?”

Juri glances at Taiga, sensing the impending conversation. “We’ve been together for … seven years now,” he replies.

Her eyes widen. “Seven years? My, my! You must be thinking about marriage soon, then. When can we expect the wedding?”

Juri’s throat tightens, and the air in the room grows thick with tension.

“Oh, Auntie, you know how it is,” Taiga interjects, squeezing Juri’s hand. “We’re just swamped with work at the moment, but we’re definitely making plans. We’ll let you know as soon as we have something concrete.”

The aunt seems relieved. “Well, I’m glad! Juri, you better hurry up and wed Taiga right away, or he might find someone else to marry instead!”

“Auntie!”

Her laughter fills the room, but Juri’s own voice remains silent. The words hit him like a sharp dagger to the heart. He struggles to maintain a composed façade, but inside, panic grips him. The thought of Taiga moving on, finding happiness and love with another, is a devastating blow that threatens to shatter the fragments of his already broken heart.

His mind races with possibilities, with scenarios where he’s left behind, watching as Taiga’s happiness slips through his fingers. The weight of regret settles heavily upon his shoulders, and he can no longer bear the weight of this façade.

He needs to escape, to find a moment of respite from this charade that threatens to consume him whole.

“Juri, are you okay?” Taiga’s concerned voice pierces through Juri’s thoughts, bringing him back to the present.

He shakes his head, unable to find the right words to express the turmoil within him. The intensity of Taiga’s gaze makes it even harder to hide the truth.

“I … I need some space.”

Taiga’s eyes widen, his grip on Juri’s hand tightening instinctively. “Okay, let’s go back to our room.”

Juri enters the room, his heart heavy with a mix of uncertainty and longing. The warmth of the room envelopes him, a stark contrast to the icy turmoil within.

Taiga grabs a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and offers it to Juri. “Here, drink this,” he says. “Take your time to breathe.”

Juri accepts the water, his fingers trembling slightly as he unscrews the cap. The cool liquid soothes his parched throat, but it does little to calm the storm of emotions raging within him. Taiga, ever perceptive, declares dibs on the bathroom, leaving Juri alone to confront the truth that gnaws at his heart.

As the sound of the shower fills the room, Juri sinks onto the edge of the bed, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. It’;s clear to him now that the end of their relationship has opened a void, a void that Taiga may fill with someone else. The fear of losing him to another, to a future that Juri denied him, tightens its grip around his chest. He can’t bear the thought of Taiga finding happiness and love in someone else’s arms.

But will Taiga forgive him? Will he be willing to give Juri another chance, to rebuild what they’ve lost? The questions circle in Juri's mind, the uncertainty clawing at his resolve. He knows he needs to talk to Taiga, to lay his heart bare and face the consequences of his choices.

But the fear of rejection, of hearing those final words that will sever the fragile thread that still binds them, holds him back.

When the bathroom door opens and Taiga walks out, Juri rushes inside the bathroom quickly changes into his pajamas, his movements almost mechanical as he tries to quell the anxiety bubbling within him.

As he steps out, he finds Taiga already nestled in bed, his breathing steady. But to his surprise, Taiga has left his side of the bed open.

Juri turns off the lights and slides under the covers, his body tense with a mix of anticipation and unease. The room is dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls, as he lies there, hyper-aware of Taiga’s presence beside him. The weight of their shared history hangs heavy in the air, the memories of their love, their laughter, their shared dreams echoing through the room.

In the darkness, Juri steals glances at Taiga, his peaceful expression illuminated by the soft moonlight streaming through the window. He looks so beautiful, so serene in his slumber. Juri can’t help but wonder how different it would feel if this were real, if they were still together, embracing the future that Juri was too afraid to face.

His fingers tremble as he reaches out to touch Taiga’s cheek, tracing the contours of his face with a gentleness born of love and regret. A bittersweet ache fills Juri’s chest, a realization that despite everything, his heart still yearns for Taiga.

He closes his eyes, allowing the weight of his longing to wash over him, to pull him deeper into the recesses of his dreams.

The argument starts innocuously enough, a disagreement about whose turn it is to do the dishes. It’s a trivial thing, something that shouldn’t even matter, but for some reason, tonight, it does.

“Taiga, I did them yesterday,” Juri says, his voice tight. He’s tired, worn out from a long day at work, and the last thing he needs is a disagreement.

“No, you didn’t,” Taiga replies, his tone equally strained. He’s been holed up in his office for days, working on a project that’s pushing him to his limits. Stress and exhaustion have made him irritable, short-tempered.

They both stand there in their kitchen, a space that’s seen them share countless meals, countless laughs, countless moments of love. Now, it’s the battleground for an escalating argument, for words that are sharper than they need to be.

“Yes, I did, Taiga. You’re just too caught up in your work to notice anything,” Juri snaps, regretting the words the moment they leave his mouth. He doesn’t mean them, doesn’t want to hurt Taiga, but he’s hurt, too.

The look on Taiga’s face tells Juri he’s crossed a line. His eyes, usually warm and affectionate, are cold, distant. He’s hurt, and Juri can’t take back the words, can’t undo the damage.

“Maybe if you helped out more, I wouldn’t have to be so ‘caught up in my work,’” Taiga retorts, his voice low, his words biting.

The argument spirals from there, escalating into a full-blown fight. Harsh words are thrown around, accusations hurled, past mistakes dug up. It’s ugly, it’s painful, it’s everything they’ve never been.

And then, Taiga breaks down. He cries, his shoulders shaking, tears streaming down his face. Seeing him like this, so vulnerable, so raw, breaks Juri’s heart. They’ve had disagreements before, sure, but they’ve never fought like this, never hurt each other this much.

“I’m sorry,” Juri whispers, reaching out to touch Taiga. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

Taiga doesn’t respond, his sobs the only sound in the room. Juri pulls him close, wraps his arms around him. He’s not sure what to say, how to fix this, but he knows he can’t let Taiga cry alone.

Slowly, Taiga’s sobs subside. He pulls back, wiping his eyes, looking at Juri with an expression so raw, so honest, it takes Juri’s breath away.

“I’m sorry, too,” Taiga says, his voice hoarse. “I should’ve been more attentive, more understanding.”

“It’s not your fault,” Juri tells him, brushing his thumb against Taiga’s cheek. “We both messed up.”

They sit there in silence, holding each other, seeking comfort in their shared warmth. The argument feels like a distant memory, a painful reminder of their mistakes.

“I don’t want to lose you, Taiga,” Juri says, his voice choked with emotion. “I love you. More than anything.”

“I love you, too,” Taiga replies, his gaze locked on Juri’s. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

And then, they’re kissing, their lips meeting in a sweet, healing kiss. It’s a promise, a vow, a declaration of love. They’ve hurt each other, yes, but they also love each other, more than any argument, any disagreement.

As they pull apart, Juri can’t help but smile. This is them, their love, their relationship. It’s messy, it’s complicated, it’s far from perfect. But it’s theirs, and that’s all that matters.

“I promise, Taiga,” Juri whispers, his words a solemn vow. “I’ll never leave you.”

“I promise, too,” Taiga says, his voice firm, his gaze unwavering.

And in that moment, Juri knows they’ll be okay. They’ve hurt each other, yes, but they’ve also healed. They’ve fought, but they’ve also made up. Their love, their bond, it’s stronger than any argument, any disagreement. They’re Juri and Taiga, and they’ll get through this, just like they’ve gotten through everything else.

Because they’re in love, and love, no matter how messy, how complicated, is always worth fighting for.

It’s a frosty winter morning, the kind that makes you want to snuggle deeper into the warmth of your bed. Taiga wakes up, blinking the sleep from his eyes, his heart pounding. He turns his head to see Juri’s face, soft with sleep, right next to him.

He’s supposed to remember where he is. He’s supposed to remember what he’s here for. He’s supposed to remember that he and Juri aren’t together anymore.

But he forgets.

He forgets as he gazes at Juri’s sleeping face, the soft rise and fall of his chest. He forgets as he watches the morning light kiss Juri’s skin, casting a warm, golden glow on his features. He forgets as he breathes in the familiar scent of him, a scent that speaks of home.

Home. A word that has become synonymous with Juri. A word that holds so much meaning, so much emotion. A word that reminds him of what they once were, of what they could have been.

Taiga reaches out, his fingers itching to trace the lines of Juri’s face. He knows he shouldn’t, knows he’s crossing a line he’s drawn himself. But he can’t help it. He misses this. He misses waking up to Juri’s face, misses watching him sleep.

His fingers hover over Juri’s face, trembling with the weight of his feelings. And then he gives in. He gives in to the urge to touch him, to feel him. His fingers gently trace the curve of Juri’s cheek, the line of his jaw, the softness of his lips. And for a moment, he allows himself to pretend. Pretend that they’re still together, that they’re still in love.

But then reality crashes into him like a wave, washing away his pretense. He pulls his hand away, tucking it under his body. He can’t do this. He can’t afford to let his feelings cloud his judgment. Not now, not when they have a role to play.

His phone beeps, breaking the silence. It’s a message from Ryosuke. The message informs him that the entire family is already at the restaurant for breakfast. Yugo and Jesse are there too.

Taiga glances at Juri, who’s still fast asleep. He decides to let him sleep, to give him a few more minutes of peace. He gets up, careful not to wake him, and gets dressed.

He takes one last look at Juri before leaving the room. His heart aches, a dull, throbbing pain that refuses to go away. He misses this, misses waking up to Juri’s face. Misses being able to touch him, hold him.

Misses him.

The restaurant is a symphony of clattering cutlery and murmuring voices, a crescendo that hits Taiga as he steps inside. His eyes scan the room, settling on familiar faces clustered at a table: his family, Yugo, and Jesse. A smile tugs at his lips.

Before he can make his way to them, he’s ambushed. A bear hug wraps around him, pulling him off his feet. A soft laugh bubbles from his lips as he’s released, recognizing the culprit as Jesse.

“You almost killed me there, Jesse,” he manages to say, grinning despite the suddenness of it.

Jesse just grins back, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Just making sure you’re awake, Kyomoto,” he teases. Then his smile softens, his eyes flicking to the entrance. “Where’s Juri?”

Taiga follows his gaze, looking back at the entrance where Juri is conspicuously absent. “He’s still asleep,” Taiga replies, trying to keep his voice steady.

But Jesse’s already laughing, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oooh, did you tire him out with make-up sex?” he teases.

Taiga can feel his cheeks heating up, a blush spreading across his face. “Jesse!” he splutters, indignant.

Yugo pulls Jesse away from Taiga. “Stop teasing him, Jess,” he says. “Go talk to Ryosuke about work or something else.”

“Yes, honey.” Jesse kisses Yugo on the cheek before skipping back to their table.

Yugo then turns to Taiga and pulls him into a hug. “How are you holding up?” he asks.

Taiga hesitates for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s … hard,” he admits finally, his voice barely a whisper. He swallows, feeling the weight of his words settle in his chest. “Sometimes I just … pretend. Pretend that we’re still together. That we’ll go home together at the end of the day. Makes the charade more believable.” He pauses, his voice choking on his words. “But yesterday … standing at the altar with him … it was hard. A part of me … a part of me still wants that.”

Yugo’s hand tightens around his. “I know you two talked calmly during the breakup, but maybe you two should still talk,” he suggests softly. “Get some closure, once and for all.”

Taiga nods, appreciating Yugo’s advice. But the thought of confronting Juri, of having that final conversation … it terrifies him. But he knows Yugo’s right. He needs closure. He needs to let go.

Before he can say anything else, the restaurant door opens again, and Juri steps in. He’s still a little sleep-rumpled, but he looks good, so good. He kisses Taiga on the cheek in greeting, an act that sends a jolt of longing through him. But he forces a smile, forces himself to keep up the pretense.

Taiga’s mother comes over, reminding Juri about the last-minute prep at the event hall. Juri nods, squeezing Taiga’s hand before leaving.

And Taiga, left behind at the table, can’t help but watch him go. His heart aches, his mind swirling with thoughts of Juri.

Of them.

In Ryosuke’s room, where the air is heavy with anticipation and the scent of crisp suits and polished shoes, the Kyomoto brothers are in their own world. Taiga watches as Ryosuke straightens his tie in the mirror, his reflection a picture of composure. His suit is a crisp black, fitting him like a second skin, accentuating his lean figure. He looks dashing, resolute, ready.

“How can you be so calm, Ryosuke?” Taiga asks, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes are on his older brother, but his mind is elsewhere, in a place where the world is simpler, where the lines between love and pretense aren’t blurred.

Ryosuke turns to him, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Because Kanna and I are meant to be, Taiga,” he replies, his voice steady. “We could just fill up the papers and be married, but I want everyone we love to witness this. I want everyone to know that what we're promising in front of them is real.”

Real. The word echoes in Taiga’s head, bouncing off the walls of his thoughts, seeping into the crevices of his heart.

Real. It’s what he and Juri used to be, what they pretended to be.

But they’re not real, not anymore. And the guilt of it, the guilt of this pretense, of this lie, weighs heavily on him.

Maybe he’s doing this for himself, he thinks, a part of him still clinging to the seven-year relationship he had with Juri, to the love they once shared. He thinks about Yugo’s words, about closure, about letting go.

Maybe Yugo is right. Maybe he needs to talk to Juri, to say what needs to be said. To let go.

“Is everything okay between you and Juri, Taiga?” Shunsuke’s voice cuts through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. The concern in his younger brother’s voice is palpable, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor.

“We … we talked about marriage,” Taiga admits, his words slow and measured. “And we aren’t seeing eye to eye.”

He doesn’t tell them about the breakup, about the pretense. But he told part of the truth.

“Do we need to beat him up?” Shunsuke asks, a twinkle in his eye.

It lightens a mood, pulling a laugh from Taiga. “No, Shunsuke. No beating up Juri.” He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “We’re going to talk again. See where things go. There might be a chance we’ll separate. But there might also be hope. We just … we’ll just have to wait and see.”

And then Ryosuke is hugging him, his arms warm and comforting around Taiga. “Whatever makes you happy, Taiga,” he says, his voice muffled against Taiga’s shoulder. “We’re with you.”

There’s a knock on the door then, pulling them out of their world, back to reality. “Standby,” the wedding planner says, her voice seeping through the door.

The wedding is about to begin.

The hotel’s event hall hums with an electric anticipation. It has transformed into a winter wonderland, the space is adorned with twinkling fairy lights, their glow painting warm hues onto the polished marble floor, and elegant floral arrangements. The scent of fresh flowers fills the air, mixing with the soft notes of the wedding song wafting from the band stationed in the corner.

In the midst of this spectacle sits Taiga, his fingers nervously brushing against his suit, his gaze flitting over the crowd of familiar and unfamiliar faces alike. But as always, his gaze gravitates towards one person. Juri. Even amongst the crowd, Taiga finds him, like a compass pointing north.

There is a subtle shift in the room as the wedding procession begins, pulling Taiga’s gaze away from Juri and towards his older brother. He watches as Ryosuke strides down the aisle, his face betraying a hint of nervousness that’s absent from his voice. Taiga can't help but feel a pang of envy as he watches his brother, so sure of his love, so ready to commit to forever.

Before he knows it, it’s time for the vows. Ryosuke’s hand trembles as he pulls out a small card, his eyes never leaving Kanna’s. The room erupts into soft laughter as he fumbles with the card, but when he speaks, his voice is steady, sure.

Taiga finds himself lost in his brother’s vows, his mind wandering to the person sitting next to him. Juri. As Ryosuke speaks of love and commitment, of forever, Taiga’s mind fills with memories of Juri. The first time they talked to each other at that end-of-summer party in college, the months of friendship that slowly turned into something more. The petty fights, the tearful apologies, the whispered promises under starlit skies.

His thoughts wander to the memories he holds dear. Their first date, the first time Juri kissed him during the concert of their favorite band, the first time they made love. The first time Juri said “I love you,” blurted out in the heat of a fight. The stunned silence that followed, the shared kiss that tasted like a promise.

His thoughts turn to the smaller, seemingly insignificant moments that, in retrospect, are anything but. The first day in their new apartment together, the way Juri picked him up and showered him with kisses when he got promoted. The late-night kitchen dance sessions, the whispered songs, the sticky notes adorned with Juri’s reminders for him to eat, rest.

Taiga feels his heart ache, the sting of tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. He can’t help but look at Juri again …

… his gaze meeting Juri’s.

His smile is there, but there’s a sadness in his eyes, a look that Taiga can’t quite place. Juri wipes at his eyes, looking back up at him, his smile more of a grimace now. Taiga watches as Juri mouths a word, a single word that sends his heart plummeting.

“Sorry.”

But as the weight of the word settles in his heart, Taiga also feels a flicker of hope. They will talk, they have to.

But for now, all he can do is reach for Juri’s hand, his grip tight, his message clear. For now, they hold onto each other amidst the laughter and applause, the vows and the promises, as the wedding song plays on.

The night draws in over the event hall for the reception. The glimmering fairy lights twinkle across the ceiling, and the chatter and laughter of the guests echo through the room, the hum of voices harmonizing with the soft notes played by the band.

Taiga watches the flurry of movement as the reception unfurls, a whirlwind of swirling dresses, clinking glasses, and joyous laughter. At the center of it all is Ryosuke clutching Kanna’s hand like a lifeline, his face lit up with a rare and infectious joy.

Even Shunsuke, too young to think about weddings, appears visibly moved, caught up in the wave of euphoria that sweeps the room. Their parents, though typically reserved, watch the proceedings with soft smiles of approval, their eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy.

He looks over to Yugo, laughing as he sways on the dance floor with Jesse. Their bodies fit together seamlessly, a testament to their understanding of each other, of their relationship. Taiga feels a pang of longing, a yearning for something he’s lost, for something he still desperately wants.

The merriment is like a foreign language to Taiga. He watches Ryosuke and Kanna twirl around the dance floor, their faces lit up in pure bliss, a sight as beautiful as it is painful. How can something so lovely hurt so much?

His gaze shifts and lands on Juri, seated a little away from the thrumming crowd, his smile faint yet undeniably charming. It pulls at Taiga, tugs at something deep within him that still yearns for Juri despite the pain of their recent breakup.

A wordless conversation transpires as their eyes meet, and soon enough, they find themselves escaping the noisy hall for the quiet solitude of the hotel’s viewing deck. Bathed in the soft glow of winter moonlight and overlooking the tranquil rock garden covered in a blanket of snow, their silent agreement is palpable.

Juri breaks the silence, his voice cutting through the quiet of the night. “The past month has been hell, Taiga,” he confesses, a raw edge to his voice.

Taiga laughs, a dry, humorless sound. “Yeah,” he admits, his gaze fixed on the falling snowflakes. “It really has.”

There’s a pause, then Juri continues, his words barely above a whisper, “I missed you. Every damn day.”

Caught in the whirlwind of emotions, Taiga grapples with the right response. How do you respond to a confession that resonates with your own unvoiced feelings? Yet, he finds his voice. “I missed you too, Juri,” he murmurs.

Juri looks at him, his eyes pooling with regret and longing. “I’m sorry, Taiga. I should have talked to you properly … before everything blew up the way it did,” he confesses.

Taiga listens, his own guilt clawing at him. He, too, has apologies to make. “And I should have listened, Juri,” he says, his voice low. “I should have … understood. I shouldn’t have just assumed you wanted the same things I did just because we’ve been together for so long.”

Juri shakes his head, his hands reaching out to grip Taiga’s. “No, Taiga. It’s not your fault. I … I should have been clearer, braver.”

Suddenly, the words are stuck in his throat. Taiga reaches forward to embrace Juri, rubbing soothing circles against Juri’s back. He waits. A few moments of silence wouldn’t damper their conversation. This has been a long time coming after all.

After a few moments, Juri pulls away and continues. “I can’t risk losing us.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

He talks to Taiga about his parents’ divorce, of which Taiga already knows. But Juri talks of his mother’s cycles of depression, his father’s remarriage, the bitterness that lingered for long after the dust had settled around their family. He tells Taiga about how he’s scared—of the strain that being married could bring to their relationship, of the change that comes with it.

Juri confesses to the fear of marriage making them complacent with each other, a crutch that could lead to so much resentment, if it all goes wrong. Most importantly, he tells Taiga about how he’s scared that he’s making him wait for something that might not happen, that Taiga would grow tired of waiting for him and would realize that Juri isn’t worth it.

Taiga listens to him intently, never interrupting him or doing anything other than rubbing down Juri’s back for support. He probably has a lot to say about this, but he stays quiet, lets Juri go on until he’s done and his voice is hoarse.

And it’s only then that Taiga leans forward to capture Juri’s lips in a kiss that spoke more than any words could ever say. Taiga doesn’t let him go, not for a while, and they just stand there, Taiga whispering loving reassurances between kisses until the tremors wracking down Juri’s body come to a stop.

Juri takes a final shuddering breath against him, leaning back just enough to reverently whisper, “I love you. More than you could ever know.”

And Taiga reciprocates, his words whispered against Juri’s lips. “I love you too, Juri. And I always will. No matter what.”

Snowflakes gently fall outside the restaurant's floor-to-ceiling windows, settling on the ground and transforming the world into a serene winter tableau. Inside, warmth emanates not only from the heating system in place but also from the presence of Taiga’s friends and family, gathered around the plush table. (With the exception of the newlyweds, whom Taiga assumes has better things to do.)

As Taiga steps inside, a sense of contentment washes over him. The melancholy and anxiety from the past month seem to dissipate, replaced with cautious hope and newfound happiness.

In the aftermath of their heartfelt conversation, Taiga finds himself inexorably drawn to Juri. Even amidst the fragrant aroma of breakfast and the hum of conversations, Juri remains his focal point. His heart beats a little faster when Juri offers to fill up his plate at the buffet table.

Taiga finds a spot next to Shunsuke, his younger brother. There's a spark of protectiveness in Shunsuke’s eyes as he watches Juri walk away.

“Do I need to teach him a lesson?” he asks, his words ringing with concern. “Because I will.”

A laugh bubbles up from Taiga’s throat. The scene feels almost surreal, the thought of Shunsuke offering to go out of his way for Taiga’s sake. “No, Shunsuke,” he reassures, trying to temper the amusement in his voice. “There’s no need for that.”

Shunsuke huffs, his brows furrowed in a semblance of annoyance. But he concedes, the tension dissipating from his posture. “Fine,” he mumbles, although he does add, “But the offer stands.”

“You two talked last night, didn’t you?” Yugo asks. He’s trying to keep his voice casual, but the anticipation is palpable. Jesse watches the scene with keen interest.

Taiga meets Yugo's gaze and nods. “Yeah,” he admits, unable to keep the tiny smile off his face. “We talked. We're going to figure stuff out.”

A look of shared satisfaction flits between Yugo and Jesse.

Juri returns then, bearing a plate laden with breakfast food. His eyes flit over the group, landing on Taiga. “Is everything okay?” he asks, setting the plate down.

And Taiga, for the first time in weeks, can respond with sincerity. He brushes a soft kiss on Juri’s cheek, the action natural, comforting. “Everything’s okay, Juri,” he whispers.

And he knows, deep down, that they will be okay. For the first time in weeks, they don’t have to pretend. They can just be Taiga and Juri — two people who love each other, trying to figure out their path.

Juri is awake, buried in the sheets of Taiga’s bed, the scent of their intertwining bodies on the linens, laced with the faintest hint of the aftershave Taiga used the previous night. He feels an arm slung lazily over his waist, a warm weight that grounds him, tethers him to the moment.

The clock on the nightstand tells him it’s almost two in the afternoon, a stark reminder of their lack of respect for the typical confines of time. They had staggered home late from an event at the hotel, fell into bed and into each other in a heated mess of longing and passion that had them forgetting about sleep entirely.

Juri touches the traces of hickeys across his skin. His fingers trace the pattern of bruises, each one a love letter inked onto his skin. His gaze moves to the sleeping form next to him, the bare back littered with the same marks, and he can’t help but smile.

In the quiet light filtering through the window, in this elegant apartment adorned with playful geometries, Taiga looks beautifully peaceful. Juri’s heart tugs with an emotion so profound it drowns his fears for a moment.

A month apart, a month of loneliness, of questioning and doubting, seems like a distant dream now. It still haunts him, but it’s softened at the edges, no longer a sharp ache.

Before, he had thought that love was a cage, that marriage would take away their freedom, would bring an end to the love story they’d written across seven years. But now, seeing Taiga in the aftermath of their shared intimacy, in the domesticity of their joined lives, Juri wonders if maybe, just maybe, he could change.

He peels himself away from the warmth of the bed and Taiga’s sleeping form, padding silently into the kitchen. He knows the layout of this space, each corner and surface as familiar as his own body. The light from the windows casts playful shadows around him as he sets to work, pulling out ingredients to create Taiga’s favorite tomato-based pasta.

Juri is halfway through stirring the sauce when he feels arms wrap around him, a body pressing against his back. He stiffens for a moment, but then he relaxes into the familiar touch, into the warmth and solidity of Taiga.

There’s a sleepy murmur against his neck, a chuckle that vibrates through him, and Taiga’s whispering voice, “I love you for making my favorite food.”

Juri turns off the stove, spins in Taiga’s arms, and looks at him. His heart flutters at the sight of Taiga in his hoodie, the material hanging off his lean form. He leans up and presses a kiss to Taiga’s lips, a kiss that tastes like mornings and love. “I love you more when you wear my clothes,” he tells him.

Taiga raises an eyebrow, a cheeky grin on his face. “So, you only love me if I’m in your clothes?”

Juri laughs, the sound light and free. “Well, I love you the most without clothes.”

Taiga chuckles, pulling Juri closer and deepening their kiss, their bodies pressing together. They lose themselves in the touch and taste of each other, in the shared heat between them, until Taiga’s stomach grumbles. The sound breaks them apart, has them both laughing, and Juri pulls away to ask Taiga to set the table.

Watching Taiga get to work, the lazy smile still on his face, Juri can’t help but marvel at how easy this feels, how right. His heart is full, and for the first time, he thinks about a future where he and Taiga are together, bound not just by love but also by the promise of marriage.

As he plates the pasta, he thinks back to the month of loneliness, the void that Taiga’s absence had left in his life. He shudders at the memory, at the thought of going back to that desolate place. He looks at Taiga, the sunlight from the windows highlighting the lines of his face, and knows that he wants this, wants them, forever.

And maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to see that love doesn’t have to be a cage. It could be a home, a safe place, a promise of forever. Maybe love could be waking up next to Taiga, making his favorite pasta, sharing quiet afternoons and passionate nights. Love could be in every stolen kiss, every shared laughter, every memory they build together.

And maybe, just maybe, he could start to believe that marriage wouldn’t break them apart, but instead, it would bind them even closer. Maybe he could face his fears, take the leap, and love Taiga with everything he has, for all their days to come.

Juri steps out onto the rooftop of the Kyomoto family’s apartment, inhaling the crisp spring air mingled with the mouth-watering scent of grilling meat. Around him, cherry blossoms are in full bloom, their petals scattering in the breeze, painting the sky in hues of pink and white.

Laughter and conversation fill the space, the Kyomoto family’s dynamics unfolding like a well-orchestrated play. He watches as Ryosuke talks about his latest software development, a spark of passion in his eyes. Kanna listens with interest, occasionally asking questions that fuel the conversation further. She’s the newest addition to the family, yet she fits in effortlessly, her extroverted personality bringing a fresh energy to the gathering.

Shunsuke is at the center of the celebration, his college graduation the reason they’ve all gathered. His enthusiasm is contagious, his strong personality carving a space for him among his elders.

Taiga’s parents are engrossed in conversation with their sons. Their interaction speaks volumes about their closeness, about the bond they share. Masaki, with his stern exterior, tries to hide the pride in his eyes, but every now and then, his gaze softens as he looks at his children. Hiromi is more expressive, her happiness evident in her bright smile and the warmth in her eyes.

Juri’s gaze lands on Taiga, talking to his parents animatedly, his hands moving as he explains something. He looks at ease, the lines of his face softened in the warmth of his family. His heart gives a strange lurch at the sight, a mixture of longing and fear knotting in his chest.

Shunsuke breaks him out of his reverie, settling next to him. He looks at Juri with an inscrutable expression. “Are you and Taiga okay now?”

Juri laughs, taken aback by the question. “We’re working things out,” he says, feeling a warmth spread through him at the thought.

Shunsuke nods, his gaze holding a hint of concern. “Taiga really loves you, you know? I’ve been rooting for you guys since you got together,” he says, a hint of protectiveness in his voice. “When I noticed something was off with you at Ryosuke’s wedding, I feared the worst.”

His words touch something inside Juri, a tender, hidden part that he’s been afraid to face. “I love Taiga,” he admits. “And I’m … I’m thinking about spending the rest of my life with him. I had been afraid of marriage, scared of what it might do to us. But I’m starting to realize that I shouldn’t be scared if it’s him.”

The words hang between them, a confession that makes everything feel more real, more intense. Shunsuke looks pleasantly surprised, his eyes wide. “You should tell Mom and Dad,” he suggests, a grin forming on his face. “Make it official.”

With that, he leaves, going back to the bustling crowd, leaving Juri alone with his thoughts. As he watches Taiga return with two glasses of champagne, a teasing smile on his lips, Juri thinks about what he has admitted. He contemplates on a future with Taiga, on sharing their lives, their days, on making promises that he’s ready to keep.

“Has Shunsuke been threatening you?” Taiga asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes, handing Juri his glass.

Juri laughs and shakes his head. “No, he’s just making sure I’m treating you right.” He raises his glass in a toast, his heart feeling lighter than it has in a while.

He doesn’t know what the future holds, but for the first time, he’s not afraid to find out. He’s not afraid of the promise of forever, not if it means spending it with Taiga.

The warm May sun seeps through the rustling leaves of the garden, the rays highlighting the beauty of Hokuto and Shintaro’s wedding. Juri and Taiga, their hands clasped together, watch as the couple shares their first dance as newlyweds. Their smiles are infectious, their love evident in the space between their entwined fingers and the way their eyes only hold each other.

Juri watches them, his heart pounding in his chest. His mind drifts back to their vows, their sweet promises of forever exchanged under the cherry blossom-laden altar. He thinks of Taiga, of what it would be like to stand there, to promise a lifetime in front of the people they love. The thought is both terrifying and intoxicating, and it leaves his heart feeling full and heavy at the same time.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he turns to Taiga, his hand stretching out to him. “Dance with me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Taiga smiles and pulls him onto the makeshift dance floor swaying to the soft rhythm of the music. His fingers brush against Juri’s cheek. “What are you thinking about?” he asks, his voice gentle.

Juri hesitates, his gaze drifting back to the newlyweds. He realizes then that honesty is what he needs now, more than ever. “I’ve been thinking about us,” he admits, his gaze meeting Taiga’s. “About how I’ve been so scared of becoming like my parents, of making the same mistakes.”

The words hang heavy in the air, but it’s a weight that feels liberating. He’s finally voicing his deepest fears, his insecurities. He’s letting Taiga see the raw, vulnerable parts of him.

Taiga’s eyes soften, but there’s confusion, flickering there, too. “But you’re not your parents, Juri. You’re you, and I love you for being you,” he says, his voice filled with sincerity.

Juri swallows, his throat dry. “What if I screw up?” he asks, his voice barely audible. “What if I ruin everything? Like last time?”

Taiga’s answer is immediate, unhesitating. “I’d be mad, definitely. But we’ll work it out, Juri. We always do.”

And that’s when Juri realizes it, the truth in Taiga’s words, the certainty in his voice. Love isn’t about making mistakes. It’s about choosing to stay, to work things out, no matter what. It’s about giving yourself wholly, baring your soul and trusting that the other person will hold it with care.

Juri feels a weight lifting off his shoulders, his fears receding into the background. He pulls Taiga closer, his lips finding Taiga’s in a sweet, lingering kiss.

He still has fears, still has insecurities. But for now, he’s choosing love, choosing Taiga.

And in that moment, he realizes, that it’s the best decision he’s ever made.

Warmth seeps into the quaint café, its cozy atmosphere filled with the aroma of coffee and the low hum of chit-chat. Juri finds himself seated across from Hiromi, her gentle smile warming his heart more than any spring sun could. She had called that morning, informing him that she’s around the area of the hotel, and asked if he could steal him for lunch break. Juri is more than happy to oblige.

They delve into the pleasantries of life—Juri’s work, life in retirement for Hiromi and Masaki, Shunsuke’s college life, and Ryosuke and Kanna’s blooming marriage. But beneath the casual conversation, Juri feels a strange mix of apprehension and determination.

A silence descends upon them, not stifling but expectant. Juri looks at Hiromi, the woman who has treated him as a son even before he’d become part of their family. He inhales deeply, gathering the fragments of his thoughts, his words.

“I’m thinking … I’m thinking about proposing to Taiga,” he admits, his voice nearly a whisper. “I know we’ve been dating for eight years, so I’m sorry for making your son wait.”

Hiromi blinks, her gentle smile never faltering. “Oh, Juri,” she says, her voice a comforting murmur. “You don’t need to apologize for making him wait.”

Juri swallows, surprised by her immediate understanding. “You don’t mind?”

“I may be born from the Showa era, but we don’t think that way anymore.” Hiromi chuckles. “And besides, marriage isn’t about how society expects you to be. It’s about love, about choosing to be with someone every single day.”

His words reverberate within Juri, echoing his own realizations, his own decisions. He looks down, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup.

“I love him,” he admits, his voice soft. “I love him so much. Our relationship hasn’t been perfect. But, we work things out in the end. I want him … imperfections and all. I’m still scared, but having him by my side … it makes me less scared.”

Hiromi’s smile widens, a mirror of the warmth that blossoms in Juri’s chest. “That’s love, Juri. And you have my blessing. I’ll tell my husband about it.”

Juri nods, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over him. “I don’t know when I’ll propose yet, though,” he confesses, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

Hiromi chuckles, reaching over to cover his hand with her own. “Take your time, Juri. And if you need any help, you know where to find me.”

June carries with it the promise of warm rains, a sigh of relief from the heavens above. The humid air is heavy, laden with anticipation, much like Juri’s heart. Today, he decides, will be the day he finally steps beyond his fears.

A romantic dinner is the beginning of it all—soft candlelight, favorite dishes, and the quiet hum of conversation filling the gaps between them. Taiga remains unaware of the turning gears in Juri’s heart.

After dinner, Juri guides Taiga towards the project his architectural firm has been working on—a building of immense sentimentality. The concert venue, their first shared kiss, the beginning of everything. Taiga appreciates the structure, the quiet awe in his eyes mirroring the admiration Juri feels for him.

Inside the dimly lit halls, Juri leads them to a special place, a secret unveiled. Warm light spills over the room’s unique features, and they stand in the middle of it all.

Juri turns to Taiga, the moment of truth approaching faster than his rapidly beating heart. His voice shakes, yet it’s filled with conviction, the echoes of his love bouncing off the walls of their shared memory.

“Taiga,” he begins, swallowing hard. “I remember standing here with you years ago, sharing our first kiss. And in every moment since then, you’ve brought joy into my life. Your laughter, your quiet support, your unwavering trust.”

Taiga’s eyes are wide, attentive, his features softening as the words sink in. He listens, motionless, as Juri continues.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, Taiga. About us, about what we have … I’ve been scared. Scared of losing you, of us becoming less than what we are. But being scared … it’s not worth losing you.”

Juri retrieves a small, intricately designed wooden box from his pocket. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, lies a custom-made ring. Taiga’s breath hitches at the sight, his eyes flickering between Juri and the ring, realization dawning in their depths.

“I’m sorry for making you wait so long,” Juri confesses, a small smile playing on his lips despite his vision blurring. “But I’ve decided. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Taiga. Will you marry me.”

For a moment, time stretches, drawing the seconds into an eternity. Taiga remains silent, his gaze steady on Juri. And in that moment, Juri feels the raw intensity of his love, his fear, his hope, all colliding within him.

And then, Taiga nods. A single tear escapes, sliding down his cheek, his smile mirroring the radiant joy in Juri’s heart. “Yes, Juri. Yes, I will.”

They embrace, sealing their commitment with a kiss amidst the architectural magnificence that had witnessed their journey, from a shared first kiss to a shared promise of forever.

Love, Juri decides, is worth the fear, the wait, the struggle. Because love, in its most beautiful form, is Taiga — and with him, Juri is home.

the end