Chapter Text
A year.
A year since Ash and Eiji finally found their way to each other.
That morning, Eiji rose from bed, the soft morning light spilling into the room. A warm smile spread across his lips as the memory struck him: today was their first anniversary.
Even now, he still couldn’t quite believe it.
A whole year, yet it still felt like yesterday.
Yesterday—when his heart shattered watching Ash fall for someone else.
Yesterday—when he finally confessed his love, only to watch Ash turn away.
Yesterday—when Ash came back to him with trembling hands and whispered words that would forever echo in his heart:
“Let me be yours starting today, Ei-chan, and I’ll cherish you, fight for you, and love you—every single day—for the rest of my life.”
Those words never lost their power. No matter how much time passed, they lived inside him—bright, steady, and sure. And every time Eiji thought about everything they’d endured to reach this point, he felt the weight of it all settle sweetly in his chest.
Their first year together wasn’t perfect. There were highs that left them breathless, and lows that shook them to their core—moments of joy, sorrow, fear, and laughter.
But through it all, Ash remained.
Ash, his best friend.
Ash, his boyfriend.
Ash, his everything.
A year on, and Ash still treated him like he was falling for him for the first time—gentle, constant, devoted. Eiji was still protected. Still chosen. Still loved.
And now…
“Happy anniversary, Ei-chan!”
Ash’s familiar, exuberant voice filled the room as he stepped in with that crooked smile Eiji had adored for half his life.
Eiji turned, his smile soft. “Happy anniversary, Ashu.”
Ash sank onto the bed beside him, pressing a light kiss to his cheek.
Eiji looked up at him—his lover, his home—and suddenly felt the sting of tears in his eyes.
“Wait…are you crying?” Ash asked, brow lifting in surprise.
Eiji blinked, laughing softly as a tear slid down his cheek. He shook his head, overwhelmed but glowing.
“Sorry…I’m just so happy. It’s been a year, but sometimes it still feels like a dream.”
Ash let out a low laugh, one of those rare, quiet ones that only Eiji ever got to hear. He reached over, fingers threading gently through Eiji’s hair—not to ruffle it this time, but to smooth it back, almost reverently. His touch lingered just a second longer than necessary.
“Silly,” he murmured. “This is real. Every bit of it. Because out of everything that’s ever happened to me…loving you has been the one thing that’s never felt like a mistake. The one thing that’s always made sense.”
Eiji blinked fast, smile trembling as emotion welled in his chest, his throat. “You can’t say things like that so early in the morning,” he whispered, voice thick. “You’ll make me cry.”
Ash smiled, and there was something in his expression—tender, almost aching with how much he meant it. He leaned forward and wrapped Eiji in a warm embrace, holding him like a shelter, like a home.
“Then cry,” he said softly, lips brushing the side of Eiji’s head. “But do it after breakfast, okay?”
He kissed his hair gently—one of those small, grounding touches that said more than words—then pulled away with a soft pat to Eiji’s back.
“Come on, baby,” Ash said, already heading toward the kitchen. “I made breakfast. It’s probably already getting cold.”
Eiji sat there for a second, heart still catching up, eyes stinging in the best way.
Real. This was real.
And he wouldn’t trade it for the world.
***
After a warm shower and slipping into a fresh set of clothes, Eiji padded barefoot down the hall, still towel-drying his hair. The quiet hum of life coming from the doorway—the sizzle of something on the stove, the faint clinking of plates—led him by the nose and heart both.
This had become their quiet rhythm: separate lives, separate homes—Eiji still with his parents, Ash renting out a room in Blanca’s house—but shared mornings like these? They were becoming his favorite kind of ritual.
As he stepped into the dining room, the scent of breakfast hit him all at once—bacon, eggs, toast, sausage. Classic. Comforting. And so very Ash. Eiji smiled softly, his stomach growling in happy protest.
Just as he was about to greet him, he felt warm hands slip over his eyes, followed by the feather-light press of lips on his cheek.
“Ashu,” Eiji said, laughing gently. “You’re not exactly stealthy.”
Ash’s chuckle was low and warm behind him. “Aw, c’mon, how’d you know it was me?”
Eiji raised an eyebrow, amused. “Well, for starters, it’s just us here. And I don’t think Blanca makes a habit of surprise-cheek-kissing me when you’re not around.”
Ash let out a snort. “You caught me.”
Eiji turned to face him, then reached up on his toes to press a quick kiss to Ash’s lips. “Mmm. Caught and forgiven.”
Ash’s grin softened, hands settling naturally on Eiji’s hips like gravity brought them there. “You’re dangerous when you’re this sweet, y’know that?”
Eiji laughed under his breath, cheeks tinged a warm pink.
With a wink, Ash stepped aside and pulled out Eiji’s chair, bowing with exaggerated flourish. “Your throne, my prince.”
“Dork,” Eiji muttered, but his grin betrayed him as he sat down, heart doing quiet somersaults behind his ribs.
This. This softness—he’d never stop marveling at it. At Ash. He didn’t want to.
They fell into easy conversation, soft laughter filling the room between bites of breakfast. The food was good—classic Ash comfort food—but it was the company that made it feel like home.
Then, without warning, Ash stood up.
Eiji paused, fork hovering in midair. “Ashu?”
No answer. Ash just walked toward the stereo sitting quietly in the corner. He crouched, adjusted a couple of settings, and then—music. Soft. Familiar. The unmistakable melody of that song floated into the space between them.
Brett Young’s voice was a hush over the speakers, warm and low:
“I can't count the times, almost said what's on my mind
But I didn't…”
Before Eiji could ask, Ash was already back at his side, hand outstretched.
“Wait—Ashu, what are you—” Eiji squeaked as Ash tugged him up from his chair. “I’m still eating!”
Ash’s smile was boyish, a little sheepish, but lit with something fond and sparkling. “I know,” he said, fingers curling gently around Eiji’s. “But it’s our anniversary. And I didn’t get you flowers.”
Eiji sighed, somewhere between exasperated and utterly ruined. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Yeah,” Ash whispered, his voice quiet, earnest. “Unbelievably in love with you.”
Eiji opened his mouth to protest, but…how could he? Not when Ash was looking at him like that—like nothing else in the world mattered.
With a breathy laugh of surrender, Eiji placed his hands on Ash’s shoulders. Ash, in turn, slid his arms around Eiji’s waist, drawing him close. Their bodies fit together without effort, like they always had. Like they were made for this.
And just like that, the room faded away.
“Just the other day, I wrote down all the things I'd say
But I couldn't, I just couldn't…”
Their steps were slow, imperfect, swaying in rhythm only they could hear. It wasn’t about the dance. It never had been. It was about being close. About holding on.
Ash’s forehead dropped lightly against Eiji’s, their breath mingling in the inches between them.
“Happy first anniversary, Ei-chan,” Ash murmured, his voice barely louder than the music.
Eiji snorted through a half-smile. “You’re unbelievable,” he whispered. “Who pulls their boyfriend away from breakfast just to slow dance?”
Ash leaned back enough to meet his eyes, grinning with that reckless softness only Eiji ever got to see. “What? Is it illegal now to want one perfect song with the love of your life?”
Eiji rolled his eyes, but the way he clutched Ash just a little tighter betrayed the truth: he loved this. Loved him.
“Baby, I know that you've been wondering
So here goes nothing…”
As the chorus swelled around them, Ash leaned in, his voice barely more than a murmur against the melody—fragile, raw, unshakably sincere. His arms tightened ever so slightly, pulling Eiji impossibly closer, like he could fold him into the moment. Like if he held on tight enough, maybe time would slow.
His fingertips brushed gently over Eiji’s cheek, tender, reverent. His gaze never wavered—not even for a second. As if Eiji was the only thing he saw. The only thing he’d ever seen.
“In case you didn't know
Baby, I'm crazy 'bout you
And I would be lyin' if I said that I could live this life without you…”
The words caught—just barely—on something in Ash’s throat. Something heavy and honest and terrifying.
“Even though, I don't tell you all the time
You had my heart a long, long time ago
In case you didn't know…”
Eiji sucked in a sharp breath. His mouth opened, as if to speak, but whatever response he had tangled in the ache behind his eyes. He blinked fast, but it was no use—the tears were already there, blurring the edges of everything but him.
“Aww…” he whispered, his voice barely holding itself together.
Ash gave a breath of a laugh—shaky, crooked, caught somewhere between joy and heartbreak. “What?” he murmured, his thumb brushing away the tear trailing down Eiji’s cheek. “I’m just saying what I should’ve said…God, so long ago.”
He drew his hand down, resting it at the small of Eiji’s back, grounding them both as the music hummed on.
“You’ve had me,” Ash said softly, eyes shining. “Since the first moment. Even before I knew what it meant. You’ve always had me, Ei-chan.”
“The way you look tonight, that second glass of wine
That did it…”
“I love you,” Eiji whispered, the words barely carried on his breath—but heavy with everything he’d ever felt. His eyes searched Ash’s face like he was still trying to believe this was real. That he was real. That after years of holding it all in, of convincing himself it was one-sided…this was where they ended up. In each other’s arms. Slow dancing in the morning light, one year in.
Ash’s laugh broke through the thick emotion between them—quiet, teary, full of awe. He leaned forward, resting his forehead to Eiji’s, blinking fast.
“Baby, you’re gonna make me cry,” he murmured, his voice low and ragged.
Eiji laughed too, breath catching on the way out. “Don’t you dare,” he said, giving Ash’s chest a gentle smack. “If you cry, I’m crying, and then we’ll both be a mess.”
Ash smiled, eyes glistening, arms pulling Eiji a little closer.
“There was something 'bout that kiss
Boy, it did me in
Got me thinkin', I'm thinkin'…”
Ash’s eyes fluttered shut, the lyrics settling into the spaces between his ribs like truths he didn’t need to speak. He didn’t have to. Eiji already knew. He always had.
Still, the weight of it all—this moment, this morning, him—pressed against Ash’s chest until his breath caught. A quiet sniff betrayed him.
Eiji let out a teary laugh, soft and full of affection. “Babe, stop,” he whispered, voice trembling with warmth. “You’re gonna get me going, too.”
Ash blinked rapidly and huffed a sound that landed somewhere between a chuckle and a sob. “Sorry,” he murmured, though the grin tugging at his lips said otherwise.
They met each other’s eyes again—wet, shining, completely full—and for a beat, neither of them said a word.
Then they both laughed. Quiet, breathless, tangled up in the sweetness of it all.
In love. In each other.
And it felt like the beginning, all over again.
“One of the things that I've been feeling
It's time you hear 'em…”
Ash’s voice barely carried, thick with emotion, the words falling like confessions he didn’t know how else to speak. His throat tightened, and he tried—tried—to hold it together. But then the chorus crept in again like a wave, and he couldn’t stop it.
“In case you didn't know
Baby, I'm crazy 'bout you…”
Ash’s voice cracked, splintering right through the center of him. He let out a breathy laugh—shaky and raw—as he tilted his head back, blinking furiously at the ceiling like it might hold him together.
But the tears came anyway.
Soft and unhurried, they slipped down his cheeks in silence, glinting in the morning light. Eiji watched, breath caught in his chest, as Ash tried to smile through it all.
“And I would be lyin’ if I said that I could live this life without you…”
A tremor escaped him—half-laugh, half-sob—and Ash lowered his forehead against Eiji’s again, like that closeness was the only thing anchoring him.
“Even though, I don't tell you all the time
You had my heart a long, long time ago
In case you didn't know…”
Eiji’s breath caught as his own tears spilled, quiet and unrelenting. He raised both hands to Ash’s face, cradling him gently—thumbs brushing away the tracks left behind, like he could catch every single one.
“Ashu…” he whispered, voice ragged. “You’re gonna kill me…”
But his smile—soft, trembling, awestruck—was radiant. Like his heart couldn’t contain everything it was feeling. Like he still didn’t fully believe this was real.
Because this…
Ash, undone in his arms.
His tears. His truth. His love, laid bare with no fear, no hesitation.
It was more than Eiji had ever dared to hope for.
“You've got all of me, I belong to you
Yeah, you're my everything…”
Ash laughed through a sob, pressing into Eiji’s touch like it was home. “Sorry, baby,” he murmured, voice thick but sweet. “Didn’t mean to fall apart on you.”
Eiji let out a watery chuckle and smacked Ash lightly in the chest. “Stop it, Ashu!” he sniffled. “You’re seriously gonna make me lose it!”
But even as they laughed—shaking, sniffling messes in each other’s arms—the music kept playing. And so did the love. Quiet. Fierce. Unshakable.
“In case you didn't know, I'm crazy 'bout you
And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you…”
Their laughter slowly faded, like a gentle wave pulling back from the shore, leaving only warmth behind.
Ash leaned in, eyes soft with something deep and quiet. He closed the distance between them and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to Eiji’s lips—gentle, reverent, like a promise.
The world disappeared. There was no morning light, no breakfast on the table, no music humming in the background.
Just them. Just this.
“Even though, I don't tell you all the time
You had my heart a long, long time ago…”
Ash barely pulled away, his lips still brushing against Eiji’s as he whispered, “I love you, Ei-chan.”
The words settled between them, soft and weightless, yet heavier than the world.
“Yeah, you had my heart a long, long time ago
In case you didn't know
In case you didn't know…”
Eiji’s eyes shimmered as he smiled—full, real, and impossibly full of love. He leaned in again, pressing his forehead to Ash’s.
“I love you too, Ashu,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.
And for a moment, everything was still.
***
Later that morning, Ash told Eiji to throw on something comfy because they were heading out. “Nothing fancy,” he’d said. So Eiji stuck with his go-to: a soft knit sweater, jeans, and sneakers. Ash had layered a hoodie under his jacket, casual as ever—but there was a spark in his eye that told Eiji something was up.
They slid into Ash’s car, the doors clicking shut behind them. But Ash didn’t move. He sat behind the wheel, hands resting at ten and two, staring straight ahead.
Eiji glanced over. “Babe?” he asked gently. “What’s wrong?”
Ash glanced at him, sheepish. “Nothing…I mean—it’s stupid.”
Eiji tilted his head. “Aslan. That doesn’t sound like ‘nothing.’”
Ash sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine. I couldn’t drive.”
Eiji blinked. “Why not? Are you feeling sick?” He reached over and pressed the back of his hand to Ash’s forehead, concern knitting his brows.
“I’m fine, Ei-chan,” Ash said, that familiar grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s just…you know. San Francisco traffic. Pretty dangerous stuff.”
Eiji tilted his head, brow furrowing. “Dangerous? You’ve been driving in San Francisco for a year now.”
Ash leaned back in the seat, hand still on the steering wheel, eyes flicking toward him with a glint that always meant trouble. “Yeah, well…I realized I might crash the car.”
Eiji blinked. “Why? Are your eyes okay? Should we—?”
Ash looked at him then—really looked at him—and smiled so softly it knocked the breath right out of the air. “Because I couldn’t see the road.”
“What are you talking about—?”
“All I could see…” Ash leaned closer, voice dropping. “…is you, baby.”
Before Eiji could process the line—or the blush that shot up his cheeks—Ash leaned in and stole a quick kiss, brushing it against his lips like it was nothing at all.
Like it hadn’t just melted Eiji into a flustered, wide-eyed puddle.
“ASH!” Eiji yelped, swatting his arm.
Ash just laughed—loud, unapologetic, and deeply proud of himself—as he finally pressed the ignition button.
Eiji crossed his arms with a dramatic huff, still burning red. “Idiot…you’re lucky I love you.”
Ash reached over and laced their fingers together on the center console, squeezing gently.
“I know,” he said, all warmth and certainty. “And I’m never letting you forget it.”
***
“Pier 39?” Eiji’s voice lit up before the car even slowed down, his eyes wide as the rainbow flags whipped in the wind, the bright storefronts and street performers coming into view like a postcard come to life.
Ash smiled as he pulled into the parking garage, letting out a fond, quiet sigh. “Figured we’d do something fun for our anniversary,” he said. “Something with churros. And sea lions.”
Eiji didn’t wait for the engine to fully shut off before he was leaning over the console, arms flung around Ash’s neck, burying his face against the side of his hoodie. “You know me too well, Ashu,” he said, voice muffled but warm.
Ash laughed, the sound bright and unguarded, catching on the breeze as it rolled through the open window like it wanted to carry the moment away. “Of course I do, silly,” he said, resting his chin on Eiji’s shoulder for one last second. “It’s in my job description—Boyfriend. Professional Eiji expert. Chronic soft-spot weakness sufferer.”
He nudged him gently. “C’mon, baby. Let’s make some memories to cry about later.”
Eiji groaned, already grinning as he leaned back into his seat. “You’re such a dork.”
“Correction,” Ash said, slipping out of the car with all the smugness of a man on a mission. “I’m your dork. And your date for the day. You’re welcome.”
He circled around to Eiji’s side and opened the door with an exaggerated flourish. And just as Eiji stepped out, Ash reached up with both hands and pinched his cheeks with an over-the-top squeal.
“Hey! ASH!” Eiji yelped, smacking at his hands. “That hurts, you idiot!”
Ash just grinned wider, utterly unapologetic. “Can’t help it—you’re just too cute, my baby,” he cooed dramatically.
Eiji narrowed his eyes, then without warning grabbed Ash’s face with both hands and gave his cheeks a gentle tug.
“OW! Ei-chan!” Ash whined through smushed lips, now pink-faced and wide-eyed.
They both burst out laughing, nearly collapsing into each other, faces flushed and hearts light.
“Serves you right,” Eiji said, smug.
Ash rubbed at his cheeks, grumbling under his breath. “Still worth it.”
With their fingers laced like muscle memory, Ash and Eiji stepped into the rhythm of the city—their steps in sync, like they’d always belonged to the same pace. The breeze off the bay was crisp and sweet, carrying the scent of saltwater, cinnamon, and something fried and sugary—like the air itself was in celebration.
They wandered toward the edge of Pier 39, surrounded by the blur of candy-colored shops, camera clicks, and seagulls overhead crying out like they had something to say. Somewhere nearby, the carousel turned slowly, its music faint and nostalgic as it drifted across the pier. Beneath them, the wooden boards creaked beneath their feet, and beyond the railings, the bay glittered like a spilled bottle of stars. Boats bobbed gently in the harbor below, as if they, too, were caught in the calm joy of this morning.
Eiji squeezed Ash’s hand. “Whoa…” he murmured, breath catching. “It’s so…alive.”
Ash leaned into him just slightly, lips brushing Eiji’s temple in a blink-and-you-miss-it kiss. “Yeah,” he said. “Kinda like someone I know.”
Eiji flushed, smiling despite himself.
Ash led him toward the upper deck of the pier, weaving around clusters of tourists and a guy aggressively handing out clam chowder samples. “There,” Ash said, nodding toward a sleek little theater nestled beside a row of souvenir shops.
Eiji looked up at the sign. “The Flyer?”
Ash glanced over his shoulder, grinning. “Trust me, Ei-chan. You’re gonna love it.”
A few minutes later, they were being ushered into the ride, the hush of the room settling around them as they took their seats. They slipped on their glasses, the world dimming into a dusky anticipation. The floor tilted gently beneath their feet, and the massive curved screen began to glow like dawn on the water.
Then—it happened.
That gentle, grounding warmth.
Ash’s hand found Eiji’s again, this time without looking, without question. Just instinct. Their fingers fit together like two puzzle pieces that had waited years to find each other.
“I’ll hold your hand ’til the end, Ei-chan,” Ash whispered, voice barely audible above the rising swell of sound.
Eiji turned to him, heart stuttering behind his ribs. “’Til the end?” he asked, so quietly it felt like it would break if he said it too loud.
Ash’s eyes found his in the low light—clear, steady, achingly sincere. That same crooked smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, the one he only ever gave to Eiji. “’Til the end,” he said again.
And then—the seats lifted.
A gust of wind swept over them, cool and crisp, and suddenly the city was below them. The Golden Gate Bridge stretched wide beneath their feet, the Pacific sparkling like scattered diamonds. They soared past cable cars and Chinatown lanterns, dipped through virtual fog banks and swept over Alcatraz.
“AHHH!” Eiji screamed, laughter twisting through his voice as the seat tilted and they dove past Coit Tower.
“EI-CHAN!” Ash’s voice rang beside him—half-joy, half-madness. “I LOVE YOU!”
Eiji’s head whipped toward him. “WHAT?!”
But Ash only grinned harder, wind flattening his hair against his forehead. His hand squeezed tighter, fingers firm, unshaking.
“I LOVE YOU, EIJI!” he shouted again, louder this time, as if he wanted every seagull in the sky, every wave against the pier, to hear it.
Eiji was laughing now, full and raw, blinking back the wind in his eyes.
“I LOVE YOU TOO, ASH!”
The screen rushed with a sudden dip—they swooped low over the bay, and Eiji felt his heart lift, light and fearless and soaring right out of his chest.
They landed with a soft jolt as the ride gently came to a stop, the screen fading back to black. The room brightened, and Eiji realized he was breathless—soaked in adrenaline and joy, heart pounding as if it had wings.
Ash turned toward him, his cheeks flushed, eyes shining. “Still holding your hand,” he said, almost shyly.
Eiji looked down—sure enough, their fingers were still locked. He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed the back of Ash’s.
“I’m never letting go,” he murmured.
And in the dim hush of that small motion simulator, with nothing between them but the echo of wind and wonder…
Eiji knew.
This was real. This was love. And it had always been him.
***
“Hahaha! Man, that was insane!” Ash laughed as they stumbled out of The Flyer and back onto the pier, the ocean breeze rushing up to meet them like the city was clapping for their return. His grin stretched wide, untamed and golden in the late morning sun. “I think my soul briefly left my body.”
Eiji wiped at his face with his sleeve, breath still coming in little gasps, his cheeks aching from smiling too hard. “You screamed louder than I did,” he teased, nudging Ash’s side.
“I was expressing myself,” Ash said with a mock-wounded gasp, then laughed again—lighter, brighter than the sky above them. But when he looked over, something in his gaze softened. His laughter faded, but his eyes stayed full of light. “But you know…I think I realized something back there.”
Eiji blinked, head tilting. “What is it?”
Ash didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took Eiji’s hand again—easily, instinctively—their fingers falling into place like they were meant to live that way. The sun glinted off the bay behind them, the carousel music humming faintly in the background.
“Life’s already good,” Ash said quietly, thumb brushing along the back of Eiji’s hand. “But life with you? It’s more than I ever thought I’d get. It’s…everything. And knowing we’re in it together, no matter how wild or scary or beautiful it gets—” He paused, smiling as he leaned in closer. “That’s what makes it the best damn ride I’ve ever been on.”
Eiji’s breath caught, swept up in the way Ash looked at him—like he was the only thing that existed in the entire city.
Ash leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently against Eiji’s, their closeness buzzing like a secret between them.
“Forever, baby,” Ash whispered, voice almost lost in the sound of the bay. “You and me.”
And as Eiji closed his eyes and leaned into the warmth of him, of now, of this—he smiled.
***
“Hey, Ei-chan,” Ash said suddenly, his voice cutting through the gentle din of the bay. He and Eiji were leaning against the old wooden railing at the edge of the pier, watching the sea lions flop lazily on the floating docks below. Their barking echoed across the water like out-of-tune horns, but somehow it made the moment even sweeter.
Eiji turned toward him, curious. “Hm?”
Ash nudged his shoulder lightly. “I just realized—you’re in your last year of college now. That means graduation’s creeping up, huh?”
Eiji let out a soft breath, smiling as the breeze toyed with his hair. “Yeah. It’s kind of wild, right? Feels like I just got here yesterday.”
“Any big plans?” Ash asked, eyes scanning the bay but flicking back to him with that familiar spark.
Eiji shrugged, the motion easy, unhurried. “Not sure yet. I might stick around here until you finish school. Maybe look for work, or try to build up my portfolio—start something of my own, maybe a little photography business.”
Ash grinned. “Of course you’d say something responsible like that. I meant for the celebration, nerd.”
Eiji blinked, then laughed, sheepish. “Oh! That. I don’t know…maybe we could fly back to New York? Or we could have everyone come out here—show them around the city, let them meet the sea lions.”
Ash chuckled. “What, and make them listen to these guys yelling all day?” He tilted his head toward the barking sea lions. “Sounds like a party.”
Eiji bumped their shoulders together. “I think it sounds perfect.”
Ash’s gaze softened as he looked at him—wind tousling his hair, cheeks rosy from the breeze, eyes glowing like morning light. “Anything works for me,” he said, voice low. “As long as I get to be your date.”
Eiji turned to him with a warm smile that said everything words couldn’t. “You will be. There’s no one else I’d want next to me.”
Ash leaned in just slightly, his hand brushing Eiji’s as the sea stretched out behind them like a promise.
“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
***
The rest of the day slipped by like sunlight on the bay—bright, golden, and far too fast.
After watching the sea lions bark and flop about like lazy royalty, they grabbed clam chowder in sourdough bowls from a stall by the wharf, the sea breeze carrying the scent of salt and butter. They shared churros dusted in cinnamon sugar, took wildly unflattering photos in a booth that only made them laugh harder, and—despite their very adult protests—climbed onto the carousel, squished between giggling kids.
Eiji’s cheeks ached from smiling. And still, as the sun dipped low and painted the city in amber, his heart sank a little when Ash said, “Let’s head home.”
Eiji tried not to let it show, but Ash saw it anyway.
“Hey,” Ash murmured, brushing their hands together as they walked to the car. “I’ve got something planned, okay? We’re watching a movie at my place. You’re not escaping me yet.”
That earned him a smile—and a flicker of hope in Eiji’s chest.
At Blanca's house, Eiji kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the couch, melting into the cushions as Ash flicked on the stereo.
“White noise while I grab snacks,” Ash called from the kitchen. “Or, you know, ambiance. For romance.”
Eiji laughed, tilting his head at the soft music now floating through the room—something gentle, nostalgic. It settled in his chest like a memory.
That was when he noticed it.
Sitting on the coffee table, where there’d been nothing earlier that morning, was a book. Worn brown leather, edges softened with time. And on the cover, scrawled in silver ink—
A + E
Eiji’s breath caught.
The song in the background shifted, the lyrics brushing tenderly against the moment:
“Do you remember when I said I'd always be there
Ever since we were ten, baby?
When we were out on the playground playing pretend, I didn't know it back then…”
Eiji gently opened the album, the worn leather cover cool beneath his fingertips. On the inside cover, in Ash’s familiar handwriting, were the first words:
To Eiji, my Ei-chan…
His breath caught. Eiji turned the page—and there it was. A photo he hadn’t seen in years:
A grainy, sun-dappled snapshot of two little boys—six-year-old Ash, arms crossed stubbornly but eyes defiant with spark, and eight-year-old Eiji, grinning like the whole world was something good. His hand rested gently on Ash’s shoulder, even back then.
Beneath the photo, more words followed in Ash’s hand, not typed, not printed—written like a letter through time.
It’s been a year since we became us. But our first year…it’s just a chapter in a story that started long before that. Thirteen years ago, we didn’t know what love meant. But now I know—it’s you. It’s always been you.
The next line of the song hummed through the speakers, gentle and aching:
“Now I realize you were the only one
It's never too late to show it
Grow old together, have feelings we had before
Back when we were so innocent…”
Eiji traced his name written in Ash’s hand, his throat tight with emotion. The next pages turned like a heartbeat, soft and slow—each one a love letter in pictures, a scrapbook stitched together by time.
A faded crayon drawing greeted him first—paper slightly yellowed with time. A crooked little house, stick figures standing beneath a too-big sun. One had wild yellow scribbles for hair and crossed arms. The other, smiling wide, held his hand with a bright red heart floating above their heads. Underneath it, in blocky, uneven letters:
My best frend forver - Eiji
Eiji let out a choked laugh. “Oh my God…” he whispered, brushing his thumb over the sun. “I remember this.”
The next was just as chaotic. Bold swirls of red, blue, and purple collided in a galaxy of imagination—two little boys in a wobbly rocket ship labeled “Ash & Eji go to MARS!!” Stars shaped like flowers, a green alien waving in the corner, and their names spelled in giant, backwards letters.
Ash had even captioned it recently in the margin:
We never made it to Mars, but I did land on you.
Eiji let out a soft snort, eyes wet, chest aching in the most beautiful way.
“I pray for all your love, boy, our love is so unreal
I just wanna reach and touch you, squeeze you, somebody pinch me…”
The lyrics lingered in the air like a confession long held, echoing through the room as Eiji turned another page—and the memories spilled out like stars.
Photobooth strips, soft and wrinkled from time, came first. One had Ash pulling a face—tongue out, eyes crossed—while Eiji laughed beside him, their cheeks squished together like puzzle pieces that had always fit. Beneath it, Ash had written in blue ink, just slightly smudged:
Even then, you were the only person who could make me laugh when I didn’t want to.
Eiji’s lips parted, a shaky breath caught in his chest.
“This is something like a movie
And I don't know how it ends, boy
But I fell in love with my best friend…”
Next: a birthday snapshot. A cake slightly crooked, candles melting too fast. Eiji’s eyes shimmered in the flash, mid-laugh as Ash leaned in to blow out the candles, all grin and missing teeth. Another showed the two of them in a tub filled with bubbles—tiny, sun-kissed versions of themselves, soaked and squealing with joy like the world had never been anything but good.
Somewhere behind him, Ash sat down, quiet. He placed two mugs of tea on the table and leaned in, resting his chin gently on Eiji’s shoulder—saying nothing.
Eiji didn’t look up. Couldn’t. His fingers stayed curled on the edge of the page, his heart caught somewhere between the captions and the years.
Then came the shoreline.
Snapshots of sandy beaches and tangled arms, sea breeze ruffling their hair, feet buried in warm grains of sand. Ash’s arm always slung over Eiji’s shoulders like muscle memory.
Christmas mornings followed—faded reds and greens, too-bright flash photos of pajamas and cocoa and wide-eyed grins. One had Eiji proudly holding up a mug while Ash wrestled with a floppy Santa hat that nearly swallowed his head.
There were school play photos, too—costumes wrinkled, eyeliner smudged, but their bows proud and clumsy. Then a blurry shot of matching backpacks and bright smiles on a field trip, standing in front of a dinosaur skeleton that loomed like a chaperone behind them.
Summers came next. Chlorine-slick hair and popsicle-stained smiles, pool water still glistening on their cheeks. Blanket forts lit by flashlights, faces peeking out from rumpled quilts as if caught mid-giggle. Scooter races down the block, frozen in time mid-turn, with laughter you could almost still hear if you listened hard enough.
Each photo whispered the same quiet truth:
They had grown up side by side—and never apart.
And on every page, Ash had written something—never dramatic, never overdone. Just the truth. Little captions full of weight.
We didn’t just grow up together. We grew into each other.
I didn’t know what home was until you stayed.
Even when we didn’t say it, I always knew. You were mine.
Eiji’s breath caught again, fingers tightening on the edges of the book.
And then, tucked beneath a summer-lit photo of the two of them dozing on a picnic blanket under the branches of a wide, leafy tree—arms draped over each other like the world had stopped for them—was this:
I’m grateful we shared a life. We grew up in each other’s hearts. But falling in love with you—knowing you love me back—that healed things I didn’t even know were broken.
The lyrics played on like a memory tucked between heartbeats:
“Through all the dudes that came by and all the nights that you cried
Boy, I was there right by your side
How could I tell you I loved you when you were so happy with some other guy?”
Eiji sniffled softly, brushing a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand. He turned the page.
And there they were—middle school years, folded into the album like a time capsule sealed with care. Awkward, endearing, completely them.
The first photo: school portraits. Ash’s tie was slightly crooked, his hair doing its best to rebel in every direction, one brow raised like he didn’t want to be there but was trying anyway. Eiji, on the other hand, was all gentle smiles and nervous energy, caught somewhere between bashful and brave.
Then came the school dances—flash-frozen moments in dim gymnasium lighting. One shot had Ash mid-eye-roll, sleeves too long on a button-up he clearly didn’t want to wear, while Eiji stood beside him with pink cheeks and a grin he couldn’t quite hide. They weren’t even dancing, just standing shoulder to shoulder near the punch bowl. But the space between them? Barely there.
The next: Halloween. Ash, unimpressed in a too-big vampire cape, fake fangs barely hanging on. Eiji, a cheery little ghost with bedsheet holes and glitter on his cheeks, practically beaming. Their arms were slung over each other like gravity had chosen them as its favorite pair.
One photo showed Ash with a horrified scream frozen on his face, Eiji beside him holding up a carved jack-o’-lantern like it was a trophy. The caption beneath in Ash’s handwriting simply read:
I swear he waited until I had my mouth full of candy corn.
Then came snapshots from camping trips—star-scattered skies overhead, silhouettes of two boys wrapped in oversized hoodies by a fire. In one, Eiji held out a s’more with gooey pride; in another, Ash leaned against him, half-asleep, with a flashlight still glowing in his lap.
There were photos from spontaneous road trips—blurry, crooked, imperfect. Laughter bleeding through the edges of every frame. A car window down, Ash’s hand surfing the wind. Eiji in the passenger seat, snapping pictures with a disposable camera, eyes bright with wonder.
Each photo hummed with the quiet, patient tenderness of two kids learning how to love without knowing that’s what they were doing. Through every growth spurt, every awkward silence, every too-loud laugh and long pause—there was something constant. Something unspoken.
Like they’d been gently learning how to make room for each other. How to stay. How to wait. How to begin.
And between the pages, stitched into the margins of it all, was a feeling so soft it barely needed saying:
Even then, even before they knew—they belonged to each other.
“Now I realize you were the only one
It's never too late to show it
Grow old together, have feelings we had before
Back when we were so innocent…”
The music played on—soft, tender, full of old longing—and the pages of the album bloomed like seasons unfolding.
There they were: bundled in too-big scarves and mismatched gloves, stomping through snowy sidewalks with cheeks flushed pink from cold and laughter. Ash had flecks of snow clinging to his lashes, Eiji’s nose was bright red, but they grinned like kids who had the whole world and no reason to rush through it. In one photo, Eiji was mid-snowball toss, Ash ducking with a laugh too wide for the frame.
Then came summer, glowing golden and unrushed. Fireworks bloomed across the sky on the Fourth of July, but their gazes stayed on each other. Sparklers in hand, their faces glowed not from the light, but from being seen—completely and without question. One shot caught Eiji laughing, hand reaching for Ash’s without thinking. The caption beneath, scrawled in a familiar hand:
Didn’t even notice the fireworks.
There were photos from an amusement park, vibrant and wild. Blurry mid-spin carousel shots, windblown hair from the rollercoaster, melted ice cream on their hands. In one, Ash looked seconds away from losing a video game battle, expression desperate; Eiji beside him, smug and proud, practically glowing with victory. In another, both stood in front of the hazy Los Angeles skyline during Eiji’s graduation trip—sun-kissed, sunburned, and wrapped around each other like the city was just background noise.
Fall arrived next, all gold and rust. One snapshot froze them mid-laughter in a sea of fallen leaves, Ash trying—and failing—to protect himself while Eiji dumped an armful down the back of his hoodie. Another had them walking side by side through a tree-lined path, coffees in hand, their shadows long and overlapping.
Each page beat like a pulse—raw, lived-in, messy in all the right ways. The kind of memories that don’t care if the photo’s out of focus. The kind you feel instead of frame.
And then, quietly tucked in the corner, a photo without a caption.
Just the two of them beneath the bleachers. Eiji reading, calm and focused. Ash, beside him, not even pretending to look at the pages. Just…watching him. Soft-eyed. At peace.
And beside it, written like a truth Ash had been holding onto for years:
You’ve always been my calm. Even before I knew what that meant. Being yours—being your man—is the greatest pride I’ve ever known. I want to scream to the universe: You’re mine.
Eiji swallowed hard.
The edges of the photo curled slightly at the corners, worn from being looked at, from being loved.
And it hit him, all at once—how every second of their life had been leading here.
“I pray for all your love, boy, our love is so unreal
I just wanna reach and touch you, squeeze you, somebody pinch me…”
The pages turned with a hush, delicate under Eiji’s fingertips, like flipping through the veins of his own heart.
And then—high school.
That rush of years, blurred and bright like sunlight through trees—full of moments that felt eternal while they were happening, even if they passed too fast to hold on to.
There was Eiji at a Student Council meeting, half-hidden behind a clutter of papers, brows drawn in focus. Ash sat beside him, slouched dramatically in his chair, half-asleep, the world’s most reluctant Vice President—but still there. Always there. Because Eiji was.
There were track meet shots—Eiji mid-stride, hair flying behind him, his face a portrait of motion and grit. And beside them, photos of Ash in motion too—frozen mid-kick, in the center of a martial arts tournament, the edge of a medal glinting at his hip. And in every single one, if you looked closely enough, there was the other: Eiji in the background of Ash’s frame, fists clenched in support. Ash in the corner of Eiji’s, yelling encouragement like it was a war cry.
One photo caught them at a school formal—Eiji, sharp in a white shirt and vest, a black bowtie sitting neat against his collar. His hair was carefully styled, save for one soft strand that refused to behave. And Ash—leaning beside him in a fitted black tux, his blonde hair tousled like always, that signature crooked grin pulling at his mouth.
Their shoulders touched.
And their smiles—though turned vaguely toward the camera—didn’t really land there. They were caught in the middle of something else. Something softer. Mid-turn, mid-thought, mid-feeling. Halfway to each other.
They hadn’t said the words yet.
But they were already written across every glance, every brush of an arm, every moment of too-long silence.
“This is something like a movie
And I don't know how it ends, boy
But I fell in love with my best friend…”
There was a photo from the hallway—Ash leaning against a locker, Eiji across from him, holding a book and grinning like Ash had just said something ridiculous. Another from a rainy afternoon, both boys huddled under one too-small umbrella, clothes soaked but faces warm. No one else existed in the frame.
These were the years they were almost brave.
Almost ready. Almost saying it.
And even in the candid chaos of their teenage years—mud-splattered shoes after events, tired grins during late-night cram sessions, bruises from sparring matches or scraped knees from bike rides—you could still see it.
In every photo, in every corner of every frame:
They were always looking at each other.
And Eiji realized, blinking through the burn behind his eyes, that it wasn’t about when they started falling in love.
They had been doing it, slowly, softly, long before they had the words.
“I know it sounds crazy that you'd be my baby
Boy, you mean that much to me
And nothing compares when we're lighter than air and we don't wanna come back down…”
Then came college.
And the last twelve months they’d spent—really spent—together.
San Francisco—where the tempo slowed, and everything they’d once held in their hearts quietly bloomed into something real, and lasting.
The photos from these months weren’t loud. They didn’t shout. They whispered.
Café corners in golden morning light—Eiji mid-laugh, his eyes crinkled, one hand wrapped around a steaming mug. Ash, slightly blurred, looked at him like he was something out of a dream he still couldn’t believe had come true.
There was one photo—softly lit, taken just before a kiss. Both of them leaning in, caught in the gravity between heartbeats. Their eyes half-closed, expressions wide open. Not performing, not posing—just falling. Or maybe, already fallen.
And one snapshot that made Eiji press his palm to the page—Ash carrying him on his back down a foggy street, both of them laughing so hard the picture tilted, imperfect and alive.
Tucked between the images were pieces of Ash—his handwriting looping across coffee-stained notes and crumpled corners of ruled paper. Little echoes of love.
Eat something warm today, baby.
Missed your voice. Can’t wait to see you.
Left you the last cookie. (That’s how you know it’s real.)
“You’re my whole heart, Ei-chan. Always.
Polaroids scattered like puzzle pieces across the page:
One at the Golden Gate Bridge—Eiji squinting into the wind, Ash laughing beside him, his hand casually gripping Eiji’s like it was home.
Another at a college fair, color and noise blurred around them, but they were still—arms thrown around each other, faces lit with that kind of joy that doesn’t fade.
There were quieter ones too.
Ash’s arms wrapped around Eiji from behind, his chin tucked against Eiji’s shoulder as if it had always belonged there. And another—a kiss pressed to Eiji’s cheek, eyes closed, not for the camera, not for show. Just truth. Just love.
And then—the one that made Eiji still:
Twin Peaks at night.
City lights burning below, stars barely visible above, but none of it mattered. Because there they were, wrapped in each other, forehead to forehead, lips meeting—soft, sure, steady.
As if love, once tentative, had finally found its rhythm.
As if the whole world had quieted just for them.
And in that photo, and in the pages it was pressed between, lived a love story that had never needed an audience.
It had only ever needed them.
“And I don't wanna ruin what we have
Love is so unpredictable
But it's the risk that I'm takin’, hopin’, prayin’
You'd fall in love with your best friend…”
One photo lay quietly on the page, as if it didn’t need to ask for attention.
Ash, asleep—head nestled in Eiji’s lap, lips parted just slightly, his whole face softened by sleep. Shadows danced gently across his cheeks from the afternoon light. And above him, Eiji looked down, fingers caught mid-motion in Ash’s hair, wearing a smile so full of quiet, steady love…it was as if the entire world had folded in on itself, leaving only this moment.
Only them.
Another photo—Eiji mid-laugh, head thrown back, frosting smeared across his cheek like a victory mark. Ash must’ve been the culprit; you could almost hear the teasing in his grin from behind the camera. And Eiji, bright and free, looked like he didn’t mind one bit. Like being loved by Ash was the best joke in the world.
Then came the Polaroids. Dozens, maybe more—scattered across the next page like they’d been gathered from the shoreline of time. Days at the beach, golden light tangled in their hair, faces sun-warmed and close. Sand between their fingers, wind in their clothes, laughter carved into the frames like the tide itself had memorized their names.
And tucked beside them, in a neat little envelope, photobooth strips—creased and faded at the edges. One strip showed them making ridiculous faces, tongues out, cheeks puffed. The next held something softer: foreheads touching. Eyes closed. Smiles barely there, but real. In one, a kiss—gentle, unhurried. Not for the camera. Just…because.
This wasn’t just a scrapbook.
It wasn’t just pictures.
It was their love story—told in glimpses. In still frames that captured things too big for words.
A lifetime made up of little eternities.
Moments that once flew by like a heartbeat…now folded into forever.
And as Eiji turned the last few pages, as the weight of it all pressed gently against his chest, he felt it—
Their story wasn’t winding down, it was beginning.
Their forever wasn’t a finish line, it was the doorway. The first breath of something even greater.
And at the bottom of the page, in Ash’s handwriting—familiar, bold, a little crooked—was this:
I’ve loved you since before I knew what love really meant. And now I know—it’s always been you.
Eiji’s fingers trembled as he turned to the final page.
“I pray for all your love, boy our love is so unreal
I just wanna reach and touch you, squeeze you, somebody pinch me
This is something like a movie
And I don't know how it ends, boy
But I fell in love with my best friend…”
There it was—a single photo, simple and breathtaking.
Taken just a few weeks ago.
In it, Eiji stood in front of a mirror, camera in hand, mid-click. His expression wasn’t posed or polished—just real. His eyes were alight with something quiet and steady, a joy that lived deep in his chest. The kind of happiness that didn’t need fanfare. The soft morning light streamed in behind him, casting a golden glow over his skin, touching him like a blessing.
And beside him—Ash.
Close enough their shoulders were pressed together, like they’d always been made to fit that way. His arm was wrapped around Eiji’s waist with ease, fingers curled against his side like he belonged there, like he always had.
Ash was leaning in, just barely, pressing a kiss to Eiji’s temple—gentle, reverent. His eyes were soft and nearly closed, as if he was soaking in the moment more than the flash. There was a smile on his lips: quiet, certain, full of knowing.
It wasn’t fancy.
It wasn’t posed.
It was just them.
Unfiltered. Unmasked. Completely home in each other.
It was the kind of love that didn’t need to shout to be heard.
A still frame that said everything out loud:
We made it. We’re here. We’re us.
A forever kind of love, caught not in grand gestures or epic declarations—but in this.
“I pray for all your love, boy, our love is so unreal
I just wanna reach and touch you, squeeze you, somebody pinch me
This is something like a movie
And I don't know how it ends, boy
But I fell in love with my best friend…”
Beneath the photo, in Ash’s unmistakable scrawl—words raw and unguarded:
I love you so much, baby. Always. Forever. —Ash.
Eiji’s breath caught. And then everything—every quiet feeling, every memory folded into the pages—rose all at once. The tears came freely now, slipping down his cheeks in silence, soft and unstoppable.
Beside him, Ash sat quietly, his own eyes shimmering, lips parted like he couldn’t quite speak either. There was nothing performative about the emotion on his face—just a boy, full of love, watching the person he loved fall apart in the best way.
“I fell in love with my best friend
I remember when I said I'd always be there
Ever since we were ten, baby, yeah, yeah…”
Ash let out a small, nervous chuckle, breaking the stillness with a breath of warmth. “So…you like it?”
Eiji didn’t answer with words. Without hesitation, he closed the distance and wrapped his arms around Ash like he needed to anchor himself to something real, and buried his face into the crook of his neck. His body trembled, not from sadness, but from everything—from how much it hurt to be seen this deeply, and how beautiful that hurt could be.
Ash held him like a vow—solid, unwavering. His hand threaded into Eiji’s hair, the other pressing against the small of his back like he was never letting go.
They stayed like that for a long moment.
Then Eiji pulled back, just enough to meet his eyes. His gaze held all the years, all the unsaid things, all the wonder. And then—softly, without rush—he leaned in and kissed him.
It was gentle. Lingering. Reverent.
A kiss that said: I remember every version of us. And I choose you every time.
When they finally parted, breath mingling in the space between them, Eiji whispered, voice thick with emotion:
“Thank you…for giving me this life.”
Ash brushed away a tear tracing down Eiji’s cheek with his thumb, smiling in that quiet, heart-stopping way of his.
“You are my life.”
And just like that, there was nothing left to question.
Only the kind of love that had always been there—growing, waiting, shining quietly in the spaces between childhood and forever.
***
They never did get around to that movie.
Despite Ash’s half-hearted protests, Eiji insisted—demanded—a karaoke session instead.
“You made me cry,” he said, pointing an accusing, but very fond, finger at Ash. “This is payback.”
Ash rolled his eyes but grinned, letting himself be dragged over to the mic setup like a man resigned to his fate.
After scrolling through song after song—arguing over song titles, laughing at old duet disasters, skipping anything too cheesy or too obviously emotional—Eiji finally paused, a quiet little glint in his eye. Found it.
“This one,” he said, lifting the mic, voice playful but rich with something deeper, something steady. “Is for the love of my life…and my best friend. Ash Callenreese.”
Ash let out a breath of a laugh, head tipping back against the couch, his smile soft and crooked. “Oh God,” he muttered, but his eyes never left Eiji—not for a second.
Then the opening chords played.
Eiji stood still for a moment, letting the music fill the space, the warmth of the memory in his chest. He closed his eyes.
And then he sang.
“Boy, I've been searching so long in this world
Trying to find someone who could be
What my picture of love was to me…”
His voice was soft at first, hesitant—like he was afraid of breaking the moment. But it carried, gently, with warmth that filled the room like sunlight seeping through morning windows.
“Then you came along…”
Ash’s expression shifted—his teasing grin softening into something deeper, something quiet and reverent. Like he was watching a dream unfold in real time.
Eiji reached out then, without hesitation, and took Ash’s hand. Their fingers laced together instinctively, effortlessly—like muscle memory, like fate. He looked into Ash’s eyes, steady and sure, and something unspoken passed between them. Something that didn’t need words to be understood.
“When I saw you, I knew you were the one
The love that I'd been dreaming of…”
Eiji sang the line like a promise kept, his voice gentling to a near-whisper. It wasn’t for the room—it was for Ash. And Ash knew it. His thumb brushed softly over Eiji’s knuckles, grounding him, tethering him in the middle of the music.
The world blurred, the air thick with something unspoken, and yet—so clearly felt.
And when the chorus rose, Ash slowly lifted the second mic, his voice joining Eiji’s—shaky at first, but full of quiet conviction.
“'Cause I've been waiting for you all my life
For somebody who makes me feel the way I feel when I'm with you, baby…”
Their voices wove together, imperfect but real—tender and open like two hands reaching across time.
Eiji blinked against the warmth in his eyes, but he didn’t look away. Not for a second.
“Have you been waiting too?
'Cause I've been waiting for you…”
In that moment, the music wasn’t just music.
It was a history. It was a vow.
It was everything they’d carried and everything they were still choosing—together.
And the rest of the world faded, as if the universe had folded in on itself just to hold this one, sacred truth:
They had always been waiting for each other.
And now—they didn’t have to wait anymore.
Then Ash held up the mic and sang the next verse—not with theatrics, but with a quiet certainty that pulled all the air from the room.
His voice rose low and steady, shaped by something deeper than just melody. His gaze never left Eiji—anchored there, like every word was stitched straight from his heart to the boy who’d always held it.
“Oh boy, I've been saving my love all this time
'Cause I knew someday I would find
The one that I've loved for so long in my mind…”
The lyrics unfurled gently, each line a confession he’d been carrying for years. Not dramatic. Not showy. Just real—like breathing.
As the next verse approached, Ash’s voice softened, dropping to a near whisper—intimate, reverent. He leaned closer to Eiji, his fingertips brushing lightly along his cheek, a touch full of awe and familiarity all at once.
Eiji let out a soft giggle, that unmistakable, breathy sound that only came when he felt completely safe—completely loved.
Ash’s eyes crinkled at the corners, his smile quiet but radiant as he sang:
“From the moment that I looked in your eyes
I saw the boy I've loved all my life…”
The room seemed to still, the weight of those words pressing into every space around them—not new, but newly spoken. Not a beginning. A remembering.
And before the next line could fall, Ash leaned in and brushed the lightest kiss to Eiji’s lips—just a flicker of warmth, like a smile in motion. Eiji laughed, pink-cheeked and beaming, and gave Ash a playful nudge, joy lighting him up from the inside out.
Ash just grinned wide, lifting the mic again, his voice lifting back into the chorus—bolder now, freer. And in his tone was something electric: not just love, but joy—undeniable, unstoppable, home.
“'Cause I've been waiting for you all my life
For somebody who makes me feel the way I feel when I'm with you, baby…”
Ash slid an arm around Eiji’s shoulders, pulling him in close with that effortless, grounding kind of touch—like he’d never let go. Eiji leaned into him instinctively, their bodies pressed together in a way that felt more like memory than motion. Familiar. Safe.
The next lines came not just as lyrics, but as a shared truth—sung softly, together, voices blending like they’d always been meant to meet in the middle:
“Have you been waiting too?
'Cause I've been waiting for you…”
And right then—just them, wrapped in melody and golden living room light—it felt like the whole universe had taken a breath and finally exhaled.
Ash looked at Eiji, something impossibly full behind his smile. “Take it away, baby,” he whispered, grinning, giving Eiji’s hand a gentle squeeze.
Eiji laughed, wiping at the corner of his eye with the back of his hand, and lifted the mic again to sing the first lines of the bridge—his voice a little wobbly, a little teary, but so full of love it lit up the whole room.
“Now that I found you, I just can't let you go
No no, no no no…”
His words floated through the room like a breath of truth.
Then Ash took over again, leaning closer, his voice steady and full of emotion, his eyes locked on Eiji like there was no one else in the world.
“Oh, there’s just one thing I want you to know…”
He didn’t need to shout. He didn’t need to perform. He just whispered into the space between them—quiet, certain, unshakable.
“Boy, I love you so...”
Eiji’s breath hitched. That simple sentence cracked him wide open in the best way—because it wasn’t a surprise. It was a confirmation of what he’d always felt, always known.
“I've been waiting for you, all my life, waiting for you
I've been waiting for you, all my life, waiting for you…”
Eiji’s voice drifted softly through the room—soft, reverent, full of every little piece of his heart that had been waiting to say it this way. It wasn’t just a lyric anymore. It was a prayer. A truth. A promise.
As the words hung in the air, Ash leaned in close and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to Eiji’s temple. It was tender, almost reverent—less a gesture and more a promise, spoken without words. A vow sealed not just in silence, but in love.
Ash’s voice was soft—barely above a whisper—but steady, anchored by something deeper than nerves or melody. His eyes didn’t leave Eiji’s, not even for a breath. It was like the rest of the world had dissolved, and all that remained was this: just them, and the truth in the music.
“When I saw you, I knew you were the one
The love that I'd been dreaming of…”
His voice held it all—every stolen glance, every sleepless night apart, every word they never got to say until now. And every second they still had waiting ahead.
Eiji leaned into him, gently resting his head on Ash’s shoulder. It felt natural, inevitable. Their bodies fit together in that way they always had—like puzzle pieces that finally remembered where they belonged. Their breaths synced without effort, rising and falling like one heartbeat.
Together, they sang the final chorus—voices blending as if they’d always been meant to.
“'Cause I've been waiting for you all my life
For somebody who makes me feel the way I feel when I'm with you, baby
Have you been waiting too?
Oh, I've been waiting for you…”
The words weren’t just lyrics. They were history. Memory. Hope. They were every late-night phone call, every missed connection, every quiet yearning finally given voice.
Their hands found each other again, fingers threading together with ease.
“I've been waiting for you, all my life, waiting for you
I've been waiting for you, all my life, waiting for you
I've been waiting for you, all my life, waiting for you
I've been waiting for you, all my life, waiting for you…”
The last lines lingered in the air—gentle, unhurried, like the song didn’t want to end. Like their story was still being written, even now.
And in the soft light, with music fading around them and the warmth of each other close, it felt like they’d finally arrived.
Home.
Then, without a word, Ash closed the space between them in a heartbeat—arms thrown around Eiji in a fierce, breathless hug that said everything he hadn’t yet. He kissed Eiji’s cheeks, his nose, the corners of his eyes—scattered touches like he was trying to memorize him all over again. His laughter spilled out between kisses, bright and uncontained, full of something that sounded like freedom.
Eiji laughed too, high and breathless, burying his face in the crook of Ash’s neck. His arms locked around him, tight and trembling, like he never wanted to let go. Like he finally couldn’t.
And for a long, quiet moment, they stayed there—wrapped up in each other, hearts pressed close, breathing the same air.
This song—it had always been his. A quiet, aching thing Eiji had sung alone for years. The soundtrack of what-ifs and late-night wishes. It held every word he hadn’t known how to say.
But now?
Now the dream was real.
They had sung it together—voices woven like ribbon, hands clasped like a promise, tears caught in smiles that didn’t need explaining.
And somehow, impossibly, miraculously—the boy Eiji had waited for his entire life?
Had been waiting too.
And he had sung back.
***
Months had passed since their anniversary in August—right as the fall semester began.
Since then, the rhythm of life had settled into something steady and familiar: early classes, late-night study sessions, sleepy coffee dates, and the kind of quiet domestic routines neither of them ever admitted aloud they secretly loved.
Spring crept in gently, with longer days and soft breezes. Now, as the semester edged toward its close, Eiji’s graduation loomed just a few weeks away—and so did all the planning that came with it.
“Baby, are you seriously inviting your friends from New York to your graduation party?” Ash asked, one brow arched as he took a long sip of his iced coffee. His tone was casual, but there was the faintest hint of jealousy curled in his voice.
It was a breezy spring afternoon, the kind where San Francisco’s sky looked almost impossibly blue—just a few wisps of cloud floating past. They were walking through Stonestown Galleria, fingers linked as naturally as breathing. The mall buzzed with the low murmur of shoppers, the clatter of food court trays, the occasional squeal of kids running past in sneakers that lit up with every step.
They had a couple hours to kill after classes let out early, and instead of heading home, they decided on a little impromptu date—iced drinks from Peet’s, wandering store to store with no particular goal, poking fun at overpriced jackets and retro sneakers.
Eiji wore a light cream sweater under his navy windbreaker, the collar of his shirt peeking out neatly, while his hair—slightly windswept from the walk in—kept falling into his eyes. Ash, ever on brand, wore a slate-gray hoodie and black jeans, his expression alternating between smug and sulky depending on how close Eiji stood.
“I don’t see why not,” Eiji replied with a casual shrug, sipping from his own drink as they passed the Apple Store. “They’ve been asking for months. It’ll be nice to see them again.”
Ash stopped walking for a second, crossing his arms as he stared dramatically off to the side. “Great. That means I’ll have to spend the night watching guys who’ve probably crushed on you for years try to slow dance with you.”
Eiji blinked, then burst into laughter—rich and unfiltered, the kind that drew amused glances from nearby shoppers.
“What?” Ash frowned. “I’m serious! They’re gonna hold your hand…touch your waist…” He groaned like it physically pained him.
“You’re ridiculous,” Eiji said, still laughing, nudging Ash’s arm with his elbow. “Are you actually jealous right now?”
Ash didn’t meet his eyes. “I just don’t like the thought of someone else getting that close to you,” he muttered.
Eiji tugged gently at his hand, stopping just outside a store window lined with graduation-themed cards and teddy bears in caps and gowns. “You don’t usually get like this,” he said, eyes crinkling with amusement. “It’s kind of cute.”
Ash shot him a look. “I’m not cute. I’m serious.”
“Okay, okay,” Eiji said, still smiling. “You want me next to you the whole night?”
“Yes.” Ash didn’t hesitate. “Like—glued to your side.”
Eiji chuckled. “You’re ridiculous.”
Ash narrowed his eyes. “What was that?”
Eiji leaned in closer, whispering with a grin, “I said I love you.”
Ash rolled his eyes, but his lips curved up anyway. “Whatever. I love you too.”
Eiji laced their fingers together, giving Ash’s hand a soft squeeze. “Don’t worry. You’ll get the last dance.”
Ash glanced sideways at him, voice quieter now. “I don’t want the last dance.”
Eiji raised a brow. “No?”
“I want every dance.”
Eiji just laughed—because of course Ash would say that—and squeezed his hand a little tighter.
“Fine,” he said, pretending to sigh. “Every dance it is.”
Ash smirked, triumphant, and Eiji just shook his head with a smile, already planning the party in his mind—and secretly loving how Ash wanted to claim every second of it with him.
***
Eiji had turned twenty-one in early May, and somehow, in the blur of finals, late-night ramen runs, and countdowns on calendars, graduation day had finally arrived.
“Mom, where’s Ash?” he asked, glancing at his phone again for what felt like the hundredth time. His thumb hovered over Ash’s name, the missed calls tallying up like unanswered questions. His purple graduation gown swayed slightly as he paced by the front door, cap tucked under one arm, the golden stole catching the morning light.
“He said he was riding with us,” Eiji muttered, almost to himself. “Why isn’t he picking up?”
The Okumura household buzzed with excitement. His mother was carefully adjusting her pearl earrings in the hallway mirror. His father lingered by the stairs, unusually formal in a charcoal suit that hadn’t seen daylight since Eiji’s high school graduation. Eika was already bouncing around with her phone, snapping candid photos of everyone, catching the tension in Eiji’s jaw without even meaning to.
Eiji, despite the pride in his posture, was visibly tense. His white dress shirt was crisp, collar perfectly folded. His black slacks were pressed with clean, sharp creases, and his shoes gleamed like they’d just been polished—because they had.
But none of it seemed to matter while Ash was still missing.
“He’ll be here,” Mrs. Okumura said warmly, brushing a piece of lint from his gown like she had when he was a child. “We’ve still got plenty of time, Ei-chan. Don’t worry yourself.”
But Eiji only sighed, brow furrowing. “He better not be pulling some dramatic stunt—”
Then came the sound—footsteps pounding the pavement, fast and familiar. Eiji turned just in time to catch sight of a flash of blonde and a flying trench coat.
Ash was sprinting down the sidewalk, a little out of breath, his coat flaring behind him like he’d stepped out of a movie. He slowed as he reached them, cheeks flushed, hair tousled by the wind and the run. And despite the chaos, there was something steady in his eyes when they landed on Eiji.
He wasn’t usually one to dress up, but today, Ash had made an exception. Beneath his coat, he wore a pale blue dress shirt—tucked in—and dark slacks instead of jeans.
“I’m here,” Ash said, breath hitching slightly as he pulled to a stop. “Sorry I’m late.”
He leaned down without hesitation, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Eiji’s head, his hand settling instinctively at the small of his back.
Eiji narrowed his eyes. “Ashu, what happened? I’ve been calling you all morning—”
Ash raised a hand, sheepish. “I know. I know. I’m sorry, baby. I wasn’t ignoring you. I just…had to pick something up.”
He reached behind his back and revealed what he’d been hiding—a bouquet of roses, their golden-yellow petals tinged with deep crimson at the edges. Their flower.
Eiji blinked, caught off guard. “Are you serious?”
Ash shrugged, lips quirking into that familiar crooked grin. “Not every day your boyfriend graduates college.”
Behind them, Eika let out a soft squeal, already angling for a photo. Mrs. Okumura gave a gentle, knowing laugh. Mr. Okumura, ever reserved, offered a quiet nod of approval.
Eiji stared at the bouquet for another beat before rolling his eyes—though his cheeks had gone a noticeable shade pinker. He took the flowers, holding them a little too carefully.
“Let’s go,” he muttered. “We’re gonna be late. Downtown’s already probably a mess.”
As the family began filing out the door, Ash lingered behind for a second. He reached for Eiji’s hand, fingers threading through with quiet ease.
Then, in a soft murmur meant only for him, Ash murmured, “You look handsome today, Ei-chan.”
Eiji raised a brow, fighting a smile. “Just today?”
Ash leaned in, his grin widening. “Okay—more handsome today.”
Eiji finally laughed, shaking his head as they stepped out into the morning light together.
And just like that, the weight in his chest loosened.
Whatever nerves had lingered were gone—burned away by the warmth of Ash’s hand in his, and the certainty that no matter what the day held, they were walking into it together.
***
“Eiji Okumura.”
The name echoed through the stadium speakers, crisp and proud.
A swell of cheers followed instantly—rolling across the stands like a wave, crashing against Eiji’s chest in a rush of joy and disbelief. He stepped forward across the stage at Oracle Park, his gown billowing slightly with the breeze, golden tassel swinging in rhythm with each step. His smile was bright, almost stunned, the kind that started slow and bloomed across his whole face.
His eyes scanned the crowd as he accepted his diploma, and there they were—his people.
Shunichi, camera up, grinning so wide his eyes nearly disappeared. The Callenreeses, beaming like proud aunts and uncles, waving enthusiastically from their row. Even some of Eiji’s old college friends who’d snuck in behind the family section. All of them here.
But then—
“THAT’S MY BABY! I LOVE YOU, EI-CHAN!”
The voice tore through the air, clear as a bell and completely shameless. The crowd burst into laughter and affectionate cheers, a ripple of “Aww!” sweeping around the stadium like it had been choreographed.
Eiji nearly tripped.
His ears burned as his eyes shot toward the stands—of course. There, standing tall on a stadium bench, both hands cupped around his mouth like a human megaphone, was Ash, face lit up with a wild, lovesick grin.
Eiji’s mouth fell open for a second before he burst out laughing, trying to smother it behind his hand. Unbelievable.
He found Ash’s eyes across the sea of people and mouthed, “Shut up!” though the affection in his face betrayed him completely.
Ash just winked. Blew him a kiss. Looked like he’d never been prouder of anything—or anyone—in his life.
By the time Eiji made it off stage, the diploma clutched in his hands felt heavier than paper. It felt like years. Like every hard night, every homesick moment, every silent promise he’d made to himself to see it through. And now it was real. In his hands.
He looked up again. Ash was still watching him.
And in that loud, ridiculous, unforgettable moment—cheeks still flushed, heart still pounding—Eiji realized something simple and staggering:
Ash wasn’t just there to witness his future.
He was part of it.
Just like he’d always been.
***
The moment the ceremony ended and the sea of graduates began to spill into the aisles, Ash didn’t wait for the crowd to thin—he took off like a shot, weaving through clusters of families, hugging friends, caps flying through the air. His eyes were locked on one person.
“Ei-chan!” he called, already grinning like an idiot.
Before Eiji could even register the sound, Ash was on him—arms flung around his waist as he lifted him clean off the ground in a sudden, breath-stealing hug.
“Ashu—!” Eiji gasped, startled, laughing as Ash spun him in a wide, dizzying circle. “You’re gonna drop me!”
“Never,” Ash laughed, finally setting him down—but not letting go, not even a little. His hands stayed firm around Eiji’s waist, anchoring them in their own little world amid the chaos.
“Congratulations, baby,” Ash said, his voice suddenly soft, a touch reverent as he leaned in and kissed Eiji’s cheek, then his nose, then his forehead, quick and warm and full of joy. “You did it. You actually did it. Graduated with honors. God, I’m so proud of you.”
Eiji’s face flushed a bright pink. “Stop,” he said, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably between breathless laughter. “Babe, people are watching—”
“Let them,” Ash said, unapologetic. “They’re looking at the smartest, most beautiful graduate here.”
And before Eiji could protest again, Ash stole a kiss—quick, but unmistakably loving. A few nearby students whooped and whistled, and somewhere behind them, someone yelled, “Okay, romance movie!”
Eiji let out a helpless laugh and lightly shoved Ash’s shoulder, his cheeks burning. “You’re such a menace.”
Ash just beamed. “You love it.”
“I really don’t,” Eiji mumbled into his chest, though his arms wrapped around him anyway.
Ash rested his chin atop Eiji’s head, letting the moment settle. After a beat, he leaned back just enough to catch his eyes.
“So…” he said slowly, eyes twinkling. “You’re officially done with school, huh? No more all-nighters? No more early classes?”
Eiji tilted his head. “No more.”
Ash nodded like he was thinking it over, but the smirk playing at his lips gave him away. “Just imagining what life’s gonna be like now that you’re not busy with school.”
Eiji narrowed his eyes, catching the shift in his tone. “Aslan.”
“Hmm?”
“What are you plotting?”
Ash laughed and kissed the side of his head. “Nothing. It’s your day, baby. No plotting. Just…soaking it all in.”
Eiji gave him a skeptical look, but when Ash tightened his hold again, Eiji let himself melt into it—his head against Ash’s chest, the sound of celebration all around them, the warmth of love grounding him like a heartbeat. Whatever Ash was planning could wait.
For now, this was enough.
***
“And here he is—our graduate!” Mr. Okumura beamed as he stepped aside with a proud flourish.
Eiji entered the rooftop venue with a bashful smile, his fingers loosely curled around Ash’s arm. The soft spring breeze carried hints of jasmine and distant ocean air, curling around them like a quiet welcome. Above, fairy lights stretched across the open sky—glimmering like low-hanging stars—and behind them, San Francisco sparkled to life. The skyline rose like a glowing chorus of glass and steel, the Bay Bridge glowing in the distance.
The SoMa rooftop had been transformed for the evening. Tables draped in linen dotted the space, flickering votives glowing in the dusk. Music hummed softly from hidden speakers—low jazz, warm and easy—while clusters of guests laughed and chatted with drinks in hand. Overhead, the last of the sunset painted the sky in strokes of lavender and coral.
Eiji had shed his cap and gown, but the golden stole still rested proudly on his shoulders, its satin catching the light as he moved. Ash had taken off his coat too, standing beside him in a pale blue shirt and dark slacks. Together, they looked like the ending and beginning of something beautiful.
As Eiji stepped fully into the space, his eyes widened.
There they were—his parents, smiling with teary eyes. Eika and Shunichi waving from the far side of the room. His old Sports Club teammates from high school, now taller and rowdier than he remembered. A few of his college friends. Fellow Student Council officers. His people. His past, present, and future—all in one place.
Ash stayed close, steady at his side. With a quiet smile, he placed a gentle hand on the small of Eiji’s back and guided him toward the center of the gathering.
“Go on,” Ash murmured, leaning in close. “This is your night, baby.”
Then he pressed a soft kiss to Eiji’s cheek—unhurried and sure, like it was second nature.
Eiji’s heart fluttered, his smile deepening.
“I will,” he said. He glanced around the rooftop once more—at the lights, the faces, the city that had shaped him—and felt something settle inside him. A sense of arrival. A quiet, full happiness.
Because this wasn’t just a celebration of a degree.
It was a celebration of who he was now. What he’d made of himself. What he’d found.
And as he turned to meet Ash’s gaze—soft and shining with something unspoken—Eiji had a feeling the best part of the night hadn’t even started yet.
***
The celebration had been full of laughter—clinking glasses, heartfelt toasts, old stories retold with louder punchlines, and Eiji caught at the center of it all, radiant with quiet pride.
But now, as the evening mellowed into something softer, the crowd slowly quieted. A few guests gathered near the railing to admire the city lights stretching beyond SoMa. Others leaned in close, conversations hushed and warm.
Mr. Okumura stood slowly from his seat, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer before moving to stand beside his son. His face was calm, but there was a shimmer in his eyes—not sadness, just the weight of love measured over time.
He cleared his throat gently.
“Everyone,” he began, voice carrying steady over the rooftop. “First, thank you. Thank you all for coming to celebrate our Ei-chan tonight. It means more than words can say.”
A few people clapped softly, already smiling. Eiji, sitting beside Ash with his graduation stole still draped over his shoulders, straightened in his seat.
Mr. Okumura turned to him. “Ei-chan…it feels like just yesterday I held you for the first time—your fingers barely wrapped around mine. And now…” His voice caught, just a little. “You’re standing here, grown. Brave. And ready to step into the world as your own person.”
Eiji smiled, eyes already glossing with emotion. “Dad…”
Mr. Okumura let out a gentle breath and smiled back. “I still can’t believe you’re twenty-one. And I can’t help but feel like someone’s getting ready to steal you away from us.”
A ripple of soft laughter passed through the crowd as he nodded subtly toward Ash, who grinned and gave a playful shrug, his arm still draped across the back of Eiji’s chair.
Eiji chuckled, cheeks turning pink. “C’mon, Dad…”
The laughter faded into a warm hush.
“I know,” Mr. Okumura said, quieter now. “You’re not ours to keep forever. But no matter what happens—or where life takes you—your mother, your sister, and I…we’ll always be here. Always.”
For a moment, everything paused. The wind tugged at Eiji’s stole. The lights twinkled around them like fireflies. And then Eiji stood, crossing the short distance into his father’s arms.
They embraced—strong and steady, the kind of hug that said more than words could.
***
Shunichi stepped forward slowly, his hands fidgeting slightly at his sides as he drew in a breath that barely made it past the emotion lodged in his chest.
“Ei-chan…”
The name barely made it out before his voice broke. A soft sob slipped free—gentle, unguarded.
The crowd chuckled warmly, affectionately, and a few teasing voices chimed in: “Come on, Mr. Ibe!” followed by a chorus of tender “Aww”s.
Eiji laughed, already blinking back tears of his own. “You’re gonna cry before you even say anything?”
“I know, I know,” Shunichi said, waving a hand, a wobbly smile tugging at his lips. “I told myself I wouldn’t—but look at you…”
He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice trembled with memory.
“You were just three. Clutching that little suitcase at JFK like it was all you had. And now…” He gestured faintly. “Now you’re a grown man. A graduate. And still—you’re somehow the same little boy I met. With that big heart and bigger dreams.”
Eiji stepped forward, gently bumping their shoulders together, trying to lighten the weight in the air. “Don’t go full drama on me now, Ibe-san. It’s just graduation—not a farewell.”
“Oh, shut up,” Shunichi muttered, though the words were soaked in affection. “You’ve grown so much, Ei-chan. Not just taller, or older. Wiser. Kinder. Stronger.”
He sniffed once and blinked hard, collecting himself.
“I’ve been with you through every chapter. Every high. Every heartbreak. Every stubborn decision. And I just want you to know…”
He paused, steadying his breath.
“No matter where you go, no matter what comes next—I’ll always be behind you. Just like I always have been. And always will be.”
Eiji didn’t say anything right away—he just pulled Shunichi into a tight hug, like he was hugging years of love and sacrifice and guidance all at once. A thank-you without words.
Shunichi hugged him back just as tightly, one hand gently ruffling his hair like he used to when Eiji was a kid.
“My little Ei-chan,” he whispered. “Always.”
Eiji smiled against his shoulder. “Love you too, Ibe-san.”
And for just a moment, time folded in on itself—the past and present standing quietly together.
***
The next to step forward was Jim.
He took his time crossing the rooftop, a glass of something amber in one hand, the other casually tucked into his pocket. The city lights glittered behind him like a quiet orchestra waiting for its cue.
He stopped just beside Eiji and looked at him with a smile that was both proud and gentle.
“Hey, Eiji,” he said, voice low but sure. “Congratulations on graduating college. That’s a hell of an achievement. Your dad was right, you know—it really does feel like just yesterday when I first saw you. This quiet little kid tagging after Ash, curious and a little overwhelmed, but always so full of heart.”
Eiji smiled shyly, his fingers brushing the edge of his stole, like he wasn’t quite sure where to put the emotion welling in his chest.
Jim continued. “And now look at you. Grown. Steady. You’ve turned into someone with kindness in your bones and a spine made of steel.”
He paused, eyes softening.
“I want you to know something. I’m glad it was you, Eiji.”
The rooftop fell silent.
“I’m glad it was you who Ash fell for. No—loved,” he said, glancing over at his son, whose head was bowed slightly, hands clenched in his lap like he was bracing himself. His eyes shimmered, but he didn’t look away.
Eiji swallowed hard, emotion creeping up his throat. “Thank you, Mr. Callenreese. And thank you for accepting me.”
Jim just chuckled quietly and gave a small shake of his head.
“I accepted you a long time ago, son. Way before you two even realized what was going on between you.”
A soft ripple of “aww” floated from the guests, warm and sincere.
Then Jim’s eyes twinkled, and his smile turned just a little mischievous—eerily familiar. Unmistakably Ash.
“And listen, Eiji—no matter what happens after this…” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel like a secret.
“…Just say yes, alright?”
Eiji blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”
Jim winked. “Just trust me.”
The guests chuckled. Ash shifted beside Eiji, suspiciously quiet.
Eiji gave a nervous laugh, cheeks tinged pink. He wasn’t sure what Jim was hinting at, not exactly—but he hugged him all the same, arms wrapping around the man who had somehow become family. He held on a second longer than expected.
And as Jim patted his back with a father’s steady hand, Eiji couldn’t help but wonder…
Just say yes to what?
He’d find out soon enough.
***
Max stepped forward with a casual grin, a folded piece of paper in one hand.
“You know, Eiji,” he began, holding up the paper with mock seriousness. “I had this whole heartfelt speech written out. Pages. Beautiful stuff. I was going to make people cry.”
The crowd chuckled.
“But then Ash here,” Max said, jerking his thumb toward the blonde-haired boy. “Told me—very politely, of course—to ‘cut the monologue.’ Apparently, I have a reputation for being…what’s the word?” He snapped his fingers dramatically. “Verbose.”
More laughter erupted, and Eiji looked over at Ash, who just gave an unapologetic shrug. Eiji smiled and shook his head, eyes warm.
Max smirked, then casually crumpled the paper and stuffed it in his pocket.
“So. I’ll keep it short, just like your favorite troublemaker asked.” He paused, then added with a wink, “Congratulations, kid. You did it. College—check. Degree—check. The rest of your life—well, that’s wide open. And from where I’m standing? It’s looking pretty damn good.”
He paused just long enough to add, with a glint in his eye, “And if you only knew how much Ash is already planning to—well, you’ll find out soon enough.”
“Huh?” Eiji blinked, confused.
Max held up both hands innocently, grinning wide. “Nothing! Nothing at all.”
More laughter erupted, and even Ash chuckled this time, dragging a hand over his face while shaking his head.
Max gave Eiji a quick, meaningful pat on the shoulder. “We’re all proud of you, kid. Truly. But I don’t think anyone’s prouder than the guy sitting next to you.”
Eiji glanced at Ash without thinking—and in that one look, he felt it.
Whatever was coming next…his heart was already ready.
***
Next up were Shao, John, and Sonny—now sophomores in college, but still the same trio of chaos and charm.
“Eiji boy!” Shao whooped as he made his way over, arms flung wide like he was greeting a celebrity. “Look at you—college grad and everything! Fancy!”
“All grown up,” Sonny added with a dramatic sigh, clutching his chest. “No more cramming in the library, no more vending machine dinners…unless you’re planning to go for a master’s?”
John leaned in with a teasing smirk. “Or maybe skip straight to the marriage part, huh? What’s next, wedding bells?”
Eiji laughed, cheeks coloring slightly at the implication. “You guys are ridiculous.”
“Unbelievably accurate,” John shot back with a wink, earning high-fives from the others.
Still shaking his head, Eiji rose from his seat and pulled all three of them into a hug—arms wrapped around shoulders, heads knocking together. They squawked in exaggerated protest.
“Whoa, group hug ambush!” Shao yelped.
“Man down!” Sonny cried, laughing.
“Ugh, your cologne is too strong,” John muttered, but he didn’t move an inch.
It was loud. Messy. Perfect.
Just like always.
***
Trevor, Mai, and Yut-Lung were next to step forward—Trevor and Mai all sunshine smiles, Yut-Lung trailing behind with the air of someone pretending he wasn’t secretly fond of the whole thing.
“Eiji!” Mai beamed, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Congratulations! You made it!”
He stood and hugged her back just as warmly. “Thanks, Mai. How’s SUNY treating you? Still gunning for Ibe-san’s legacy?”
“Almost there,” she said proudly. “One more year and then—boom—press passes and front-page bylines.”
Eiji grinned, then turned to Trevor. “And you, Cadet Miller—how’s life in the Air Force Academy? We about to start saluting you soon or what?”
Trevor chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves—I still have to survive senior year. But hey, I’ll take a salute from you anytime.”
Eiji laughed, and then his eyes shifted to Yut-Lung, who stood a little apart from the others—arms crossed, expression unreadable, except for the slight quirk at the corner of his mouth.
“No hug for me?” Eiji asked gently.
Yut-Lung rolled his eyes, but stepped closer. “Please. You know I don’t do group sentimentality.” He paused, then added with a light scoff, “But fine. Congratulations, Eiji. I suppose it’s impressive that you managed to graduate without completely falling apart.”
Mai snorted. “That’s one way to say ‘I’m emotionally repressed.’”
“I’m serious,” Yut-Lung said with a shrug. “Four years of stress, emotional spirals, and Ash being…Ash. You deserve a medal, not just a diploma.”
“I heard that,” Ash called from behind him.
“You were meant to,” Yut-Lung shot back dryly.
Eiji laughed, touched despite the sarcasm. “Thanks, I think.”
Yut-Lung gave a small, knowing smirk. “Just don’t get too comfortable. Adult life’s worse. But I’m sure you’ll survive—with him by your side.”
He nodded subtly toward Ash.
Eiji smiled, a little softer now. “Yeah. I think I will.”
Yut-Lung let out a breath—almost a laugh—before pulling him into a brief, reluctant hug. “Ugh. You’re lucky I like you.”
“Love you too, Yut-Lung.”
“Don’t push it.”
Everyone laughed.
***
“EIJI!”
Sing’s voice rang out as he made his way through the crowd, taller now, shoulders broader—no longer the scrappy kid Eiji once knew, but still with that unmistakable spark in his eyes.
Eiji lit up instantly. “Sing!”
They met halfway in a hug that landed somewhere between a tackle and a warm reunion—solid, familiar, and just the right amount of chaotic.
“Look at you!” Eiji said, pulling back slightly. “I heard you’re running things now over at Golden Phoenix High. Martial Arts Club leader, huh?”
Sing grinned, clearly proud. “You know it. They needed someone with skills and good hair.”
Eiji laughed. “Well, you’ve definitely got one of those. And the Yellow Goblins? Still destroying every school they go up against?”
“As always,” Sing replied with a confident shrug. “We don’t lose. It’s kind of our thing.”
Eiji shook his head, impressed. “Alright, alright, I see you. Next thing I know, you’re gonna be taking over the world.”
Sing smirked. “Maybe. But only after I beat Ash in a rematch first.”
From the back, Ash called out, “Keep dreaming, punk!”
The group burst out laughing, and Sing gave a dramatic bow. “Congrats again, Eiji. You’ve always been someone I looked up to.”
Eiji’s expression softened. “Thanks, Sing. That means a lot.”
And in the blink of a moment, the once-younger boy Eiji had watched grow was now walking his own path—with just enough mischief to keep things interesting.
***
“EIJI BOY!”
The rooftop exploded with laughter as Bones and Kong practically launched themselves out of their chairs, barreling toward Eiji with zero restraint.
“Oh no—” Eiji barely got the words out before he was swept into a double bear hug, caught between two overly excited college juniors.
“Get your hands off my boyfriend, you idiots!” Ash shouted from his seat, mock outrage in his voice. “Back off!”
That only made everyone laugh harder, a few guests even cheering them on.
“Sorry, man,” Alex called out, raising his drink with a grin. He stepped up beside them, clapping Eiji on the shoulder. “Eiji boy, congrats, seriously. You graduated! We’re so damn proud of you—”
“Hey! Stop hogging him!” Bones cut in, shoving at Kong’s arm.
“Hogging? I got to him first, man! You always do this!” Kong shoved right back.
“Will you two shut the hell up and just let someone speak for once?” Ash groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose like a dad with unruly kids. “God.”
Eiji just laughed, completely surrounded, warmth spilling out of his chest like sunlight. Without even thinking, he pulled the three of them in closer, wrapping his arms around them in one tight, chaotic, slightly sweaty group hug.
“You guys are ridiculous,” he mumbled, smiling wide. “But I love you anyway.”
From the side, Ash shook his head with a fond smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Love them more than me, why don’t you.”
Eiji peeked over the crowd of limbs to shoot him a wink. “I’ll think about it.”
Ash just rolled his eyes, but the smirk tugging at his lips gave him away.
Laughter rose again, easy and loud, as the music drifted back in and the moment settled into something joyfully messy and unforgettable—exactly like the people in it.
***
Timmy—Eiji’s classmate and partner-in-surviving-college—stepped forward, grinning as he adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt.
“Hey, cutie,” he said, shooting Eiji a playful wink.
“Try that again, Turner, and I'll rearrange your face,” Ash said, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a smile.
Laughter rippled through the crowd, and Eiji just shook his head, chuckling as he crossed his arms. “Hi, Timmy.”
“No, but seriously,” Timmy said, his smile softening. “Congratulations to you. And…to us, I guess. Four years of late-night cramming, coffee overdoses, and near meltdowns—and we actually made it.”
The crowd let out a few proud claps and “Amen to that” murmurs.
“Also,” he added with a sly smirk. “I may or may not have met someone very intriguing tonight.”
Eiji raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Who?”
Timmy glanced toward the crowd, eyes landing on a girl standing near the edge of the rooftop, sipping from a flute of sparkling cider. She had long, jet-black hair held back by a familiar purple headband, her sky-blue eyes scanning the party with a mix of curiosity and indifference—radiating an undeniable “too cool for this” energy.
Eiji blinked, then lit up. “Wait—is that who I think it is?”
Timmy sighed dramatically. “Yup. Remember the freshman girl who captured my heart back in junior year? The one who never knew I existed? That's her. Still beautiful, still mysterious…and now completely unimpressed by me. I’m devastated.”
“Good luck with that,” Eiji laughed.
Timmy shrugged, grinning. “Eh, I like a challenge. Besides, she’s the first girl to ever look at me like I was just a guy. Not someone charming. Just…me.”
The crowd chuckled again as he stepped aside, flashing one last wink at the girl in question—who, in classic fashion, didn’t even blink.
***
Then it was Shorter’s turn.
He didn’t say anything at first—just walked straight up to Eiji and wrapped him in a hug so tight, it felt like trying to hold years in a single breath. Eiji clung back just as fiercely, burying his face in Shorter’s shoulder for a second, as if he could press time in reverse.
“Congratulations, E,” Shorter finally said, voice warm and steady, but a little rough at the edges. “I’m so proud of you, man. Watching you grow from that shy, wide-eyed freshman who didn’t know how to jaywalk…to the strong, grounded person standing here today…it’s been something else.”
Eiji laughed softly through the lump in his throat. “S…I missed you.”
And it wasn’t just a casual thing to say—it was weighty, honest. They hadn’t talked much lately. School, life, distance. Their check-ins had become brief—just “you good?” and “hang in there.” Moments too short for the kind of friendship they once had.
“I missed you too,” Shorter said gently. “More than you know.”
There was a beat of quiet between them. Then Shorter pulled back just enough to look at him.
“I know things have changed,” he said. “We’re both living in different chapters now, and maybe we don’t talk like we used to…but listen to me, Eiji—I’ll always have your back. My love for you hasn’t gone anywhere. You’re family. And all I want…is for you to be happy. Always.”
Eiji’s jaw clenched as emotion swept over him, unguarded. His eyes filled, and he couldn’t speak. Instead, he threw his arms around Shorter again, tighter this time—like trying to say everything in that one embrace.
And Shorter held him right back, just as tightly. As fiercely. As loyally as he always had.
No matter how much time passed, no matter what changed, he was still Shorter.
Still his S.
***
Then, as if the moment itself had queued it, the gentle chords of that familiar song began to drift through the spring night air:
“I've been waiting for my dreams to turn into something I could believe in
And looking for that magic rainbow on the horizon, I couldn't see it…”
The rooftop quieted. Conversations hushed. Plates were set down. The city lights glimmered beyond the edge of the venue, but all eyes turned toward the front—where Ash slowly rose from his seat.
He didn’t speak right away.
Instead, he stepped forward and reached for Eiji’s hand, his fingers curling around it gently but with certainty.
Eiji looked up in surprise. “Ashu?” he murmured, but let himself be pulled to his feet. A blush crept up his cheeks as the crowd watched with soft smiles and expectant eyes.
Ash turned to face him fully, lacing their fingers together.
“Guess it’s my turn now,” he said, his voice warm but steady, carrying just enough to be heard over the soft music and the breeze.
Eiji met his gaze—curious, flustered, smiling.
“Until I let go, gave into love
And watched all the bitterness burn…”
Ash’s voice grew more tender as he went on.
“Ei-chan…my best friend. My home. The love of my life.”
A soft ripple of “Aww…” moved through the crowd.
“First of all, congratulations on graduating, baby. I am so proud of you. I wish you knew how much I wanted to jump out of my seat and scream it at the top of my lungs while you were on stage. Watching you up there—confident, glowing—I thought: how lucky am I? To be yours.”
Ash paused, glancing around the rooftop—Eiji’s family, friends, classmates all gathered under strings of golden lights. Then his eyes found their way back to the only one that mattered.
“Now I'm coming alive, body and soul
Feelin' my world start to turn…”
“Let me tell you a story,” he said, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Years ago, someone tried to set us up on a blind date. And I said no.”
There was a quiet chuckle from a few in the crowd, but Ash’s smile faded into something softer.
“I thought I had good reasons. I didn’t. It was probably one of the dumbest decisions I ever made. Because if I had just said yes…” His voice dipped, emotion catching slightly. “We would have had more time. More moments. More life together.”
He looked down briefly, then back up—clear-eyed, steady now.
“But maybe…the universe knew I needed to grow first. That I had to be ready for you. That I had to earn you. And now? No setup. No fate. No one else making the call. I choose you. Over and over. Every day. In every way. Always.”
There it was again—that tender echo from the crowd.
Eiji was still, lips parted slightly, eyes shining—not just from the city lights reflected in them, but from everything Ash had just said.
Ash gave his hand a small squeeze, smiling just for him.
“I love you, Ei-chan. And I always will.”
Eiji stared at him, eyes wide and glimmering. He hadn’t moved, except for his fingers—which now tightened around Ash’s.
“I love you too,” he mouthed.
“And I'll taste every moment, and live it out loud
I know this is the time, this is the time to be more than a name or a face in the crowd
I know this is the time, this is the time of my life
The time of my life…”
Ash drew in a breath, his next words softer now, more like a memory than a speech.
“Ei-chan…I remember the first time I saw you.” He chuckled under his breath, not from nerves, but from something tender. “You were eight. I was six. You had this giant grin, half your baby teeth missing, and the loudest, brightest laugh I’d ever heard. You lit up the whole damn room.”
There were quiet chuckles from the crowd—but no one dared interrupt the hush.
“Holding onto things that vanished into the air
Left me in pieces…”
Ash’s smile faded into something gentler, like a photograph that softened at the edges.
“I didn’t know it then. But now, looking back? I think I already loved you.”
Eiji’s breath caught.
Ash dropped his gaze for a moment, like the memory pressed heavy on his chest. But when he looked back up, his eyes were steady—full of something old and true.
“Before I even knew what love was…I was already yours. And before I knew what forever meant…I gave it to you.”
Eiji’s lips parted. “Ashu…” he breathed, barely audible. “What…what are you saying?”
Ash took a breath—slow and careful, like if he moved too fast, the moment might shatter in his hands.
“You’ve always been my best friend. My anchor. My home,” he said, voice low, trembling slightly. “But now…I want to make that official. I want to make that forever.”
He gave Eiji’s hand a soft squeeze—gentle, reverent—like he was holding something sacred.
“But now I'm rising from the ashes, finding my wings
And all that I needed was there all along, within my reach
As close as the beat of my heart…”
Then, from the pocket of his slacks, Ash pulled out a small velvet box. His fingers weren’t as steady now; they shook just enough to betray how much this meant. When he opened it, the rooftop lights caught the ring inside.
A brushed platinum band, understated and elegant.
Set with a single blue sapphire, its depths reflecting the night sky.
It wasn’t flashy. It didn’t need to be. The sapphire shimmered with the color of the ocean that lay between New York and Japan—a symbol of the miles, the years, the sacrifices they had made to be together. It held the weight of every whispered promise, every shared secret, every moment of joy and sorrow that had shaped their love. It was a symbol of their past, their present, and their future.
Now, it glowed with something gentle. Steady. Sure.
Gasps filled the rooftop. Eiji stood frozen, hand still wrapped in Ash’s, his heartbeat thundering louder than the music, louder than the breeze.
“And I'll taste every moment, and live it out loud
I know this is the time, this is the time to be more than a name or a face in the crowd
I know this is the time, this is the time of my life
The time of my life…”
“Ei-chan,” Ash said, his voice low and steady, his eyes never straying from Eiji’s.
He held the ring box between them, not as a display—but as something sacred.
“This ring…it was my mother’s.”
The words landed gently, like falling petals. A hush swept the rooftop.
Ash’s voice dipped, touched by something older than him. “Before she passed, she told my dad to give it to me when the time was right. And she said, ‘Give this to the one. When you know, you’ll know.’”
His voice caught at the edge, but he steadied himself, anchoring in Eiji’s gaze.
“For the longest time, I didn’t understand what she meant. I thought the ‘right person’ was someone out there—someone I hadn’t met yet.”
His lips curved into a soft, bittersweet smile.
“But they weren’t out there.” His voice thickened, eyes glinting with everything he’d ever felt. “They weren’t some stranger I needed to search for.”
Ash’s chest rose, slow and sure.
“They were right here. Beside me. The whole damn time. It was you. It’s always been you, Ei-chan. You were right beside me all along. And I didn’t even see it…not at first. But now I do. God, I do.”
Eiji’s chest rose with a quiet breath—like he was trying to hold back the weight of every memory that brought them to this exact second. His eyes shimmered, caught between laughter and tears.
Ash took a step forward. Closer. Grounded. Certain.
“This ring?” he said, softer now. “It doesn’t just belong to me anymore.”
He looked down at it briefly, then back to Eiji, holding it out—not flashy, not dramatic. Just honest.
“It belongs to you, baby. It always has.”
Eiji’s lips parted, breath faltering. “Oh…Ash…”
“And I'm out on the edge of forever, ready to run
Keeping my feet on the ground
Arms open wide, face to the sun…”
And then, with a kind of calm that only came from surviving chaos, from finding love on the other side of the storm—Ash dropped to one knee.
Everything else disappeared.
The laughter. The skyline. The rooftop full of people.
It was just the two of them.
“And I'll taste every moment, and live it out loud
I know this is the time, this is the time to be more than a name or a face in the crowd
I know this is the time, this is the time of my life, my life…”
Ash looked up at Eiji—not nervous, not uncertain, but full of the kind of love that had been tested by time, distance, and pain, and had only grown stronger through every trial.
His voice came out low, but sure—like it had been waiting years to be spoken.
“Eiji Okumura…my baby…my Ei-chan…”
He swallowed once, eyes gleaming.
“…will you be my best friend forever?”
Eiji let out a small, stunned sound. His hand flew to his mouth, tears already spilling, his whole body trembling like the ground had shifted under him.
Ash’s smile deepened, soft and radiant.
“Will you marry me?”
A single heartbeat passed. Then two.
Eiji’s breath hitched. He tried to speak, but the first word cracked before it left his lips. His shoulders shook with a sound that was halfway between a sob and a laugh.
“Are…are you serious?” he whispered, voice raw, barely audible—like he didn’t dare believe it was real. “Ashu…are you really sure?”
Ash looked up at him, eyes glistening, his own breath unsteady now. But his smile—soft, unwavering—held nothing but certainty.
“More sure than I’ve ever been, baby. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. Now I want to love you for the rest of forever.”
That broke something open in Eiji—his hand dropped from his mouth as a laugh-sob escaped, shaking his whole chest. He nodded, eyes squeezed shut for a second before opening again, glimmering with all the years they’d carried together.
“Ash…” His voice cracked. “I promised to be your best friend forever when we were kids.”
A radiant smile bloomed on his face, illuminating his features with pure joy.
“What’s a lifetime more?”
He nodded again. Firmer this time.
“Yes. Yes—I’ll marry you.”
The rooftop erupted—cheers, gasps, someone full-on screaming.
But Ash didn’t hear it—he couldn’t. His entire world was standing right in front of him, saying yes.
Ash exhaled shakily, like he’d been holding that breath since the day they met. His fingers, still trembling, reached for Eiji’s hand. Slowly—reverently—he slid the ring onto his finger, his thumb brushing over the sapphire as if sealing a vow. The sapphire caught the light and shimmered like the ocean between their childhoods and their future.
It fit like it was meant to be there.
Then he rose, reaching out not just with his arms, but with everything he was—his whole heart, all their years, all their stories—and pulled Eiji into his embrace like it was the only place he ever wanted to be.
“More than a name or a face in the crowd
I know this is the time, this is the time of my life…”
Eiji melted into him—arms tight around his waist, face pressed to his shoulder, laughing and crying all at once.
Around them, the rooftop exploded—cheers, whistles, clapping, someone full-on sobbing in the corner.
But for Eiji and Ash, the world had gone quiet.
It was just the two of them. Breathing together. Hearts full. And forever beginning right there in each other’s arms.
Ash pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against Eiji’s, their breath mingling in the tender space between. His eyes shimmered, brimming with everything that had ever lived between them—joy, pain, years, miles.
“No matter how strong the wind blows…I’ll always find my way back to you. Always, Ei-chan. My best friend.”
Eiji’s breath caught. He tried to answer, but emotion closed his throat, clutched his chest. His eyes welled again, overflowing. But his hand—steady, sure—reached up to cup Ash’s cheek, thumb gently brushing away a tear that had slipped free.
And then he smiled—small and beautiful and filled with a thousand memories.
“I know,” he whispered. “Because you’ve always been my home.”
And when their lips met, it wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything. Full of history. Laughter. Heartbreak. Healing. Years of friendship, love, near-loss—and the quiet, stubborn promise that they’d always find their way back to each other.
When they pulled apart, their foreheads touched again—just like when they were kids leaning close in the dark, whispering secrets.
Only now, the secret was out.
And “forever” didn’t feel like a distant dream.
It felt like standing right here, in each other’s arms.
“This is the time of my life
The time of my life, the time of my life…”
Eiji had been in love with his best friend for as long as he could remember. Maybe even before he knew what love really meant.
For most of his life, he believed that being Ash’s best friend was the limit—the farthest he was allowed to go. A line you weren’t supposed to cross. He thought love would ruin everything, thought wanting more meant risking the most important thing he had.
Because how do you look at the person who’s been your anchor, your laughter, your light—and tell them they’re also your heart?
They say loving your best friend is the hardest kind of love. It comes with the fear of breaking something already so rare. Of losing someone not just as a lover, but as a lifelong constant.
For years, Eiji kept that love buried. He convinced himself it was enough to stand beside Ash quietly, offering his support, his presence—never asking for more. Even when it hurt. Even when it nearly broke him.
But one day, he let it slip. He let love speak. And against all the odds, Ash didn’t walk away.
Instead, he stayed. He chose him.
And now, their life—this new life—was just beginning.
Eiji had never believed in “forever.” The word always felt too delicate, too easily broken. He’d seen so many people say it, only for time or change to prove them wrong.
But Ash was different. What they had was different. It wasn’t fragile—it was forged. Weathered by heartbreak, healed by time, and made stronger by friendship that never gave up.
This love? It had already survived storms. It had already proven itself.
So even if the winds picked up again—even if life brought more hardships than they ever expected—Eiji believed in one thing now:
They would still stand. Together.
Because no matter how strong the wind blows…they’d already learned how to hold on.
And saying yes to forever?
It was easy.
They’d been practicing all along.
***THE END.***
