Chapter Text
It was unexpected, really. Even his own colleagues were surprised when Yoshikage Kira’s extended absence was revealed to be a honeymoon. As much of a shock as it was to people who knew him, it was most unexpected to himself. He never imagined he could possibly surrender himself and his lifestyle to the prison of marriage. But surprisingly, at the arrival of the one year anniversary, it’s hard for him to imagine adjusting to a life without it. He catches himself on that thought sometimes. How such a drastic change in his life, in his nature, could have happened so fast yet so subtly. The logical side of him detested it, but that newly discovered part of him overruled it and illogically longed for it.
The marriage wasn’t born from a flowery romance, in all honesty, it was the convenience of two adults, late past the usual marital age, who liked each other well enough to become intimate companions. While his fondness for his now wife was certainly there to begin with, a new and equal parts pleasant and annoying feeling, it wasn’t an intense love, or even a pure one. But there was something in it that he never knew before. Within the intimacy of his marriage, a tender side of himself grew slowly, almost imperceptibly, but undeniably. It was never something he imagined himself ever wanting, but now, he can’t imagine how he ever got along without it.
For instance, one late afternoon, Kira was busy. Focused on cutting vegetables for dinner, he didn’t notice a pair of arms slithering around him until he was encircled and already trapped between you and the counter. It was these kinds of random things he meant, he’d become so accustomed to them that he actually felt discontented if they didn’t happen. The meticulous chopping continued before he found something to say.
“You’re home late.” He simply stated.
You only relaxed your face closer against his shoulder and hummed in response.
“Did you get the groceries like I asked?”
You tense up, squeezing him a little tighter. “Oh no… they’re by the table.”
He simply sighed, unmoved. He knew you’d make that joke. “Clean them before putting them away. Please.”
“What’re you making?” You asked, peering over his shoulder to watch him cut two red peppers into freakishly even slices.
“Spaghetti aglio e olio.”
It was a familiar name. Later, you realized you briefly mentioned it the night before, just in passing, saying how good it looked in a commercial. Your arms gave him one last squeeze, taking in all the warmth through his shirt before releasing and getting to work on cleaning the groceries, an insistence of his that now seemed normal compared to the rest of him.
“A new recipe, huh? That’s somewhat odd for you.” You said, preparing a veggie wash.
With his knife, he pushed the peppers from the cutting board onto the hot pan, making it give a sudden sizzle. “It’s our anniversary.” He said, subtly glancing at you, as if trying to see if you’d forgotten.
That’s right. He was always cordial, though, the way he so plainly stated it gave a little tug to your heart. He remembered. “I know- don’t give me that look! I didn’t forget, I was just saying…” You went back to washing produce, wondering how you were going to smoothly present the thing that made you come home late. You wracked your brain over it. A whole year of marriage and yet… his preferences? Tastes? The best you knew about it was that he was just too damn picky. Though, maybe he’d simply appreciate the gesture if the gift missed the mark, right?
While he wasn’t looking, you grabbed the gift among the groceries, an item within a small box, and discreetly hid it in one of the drawers you knew he wouldn’t open. A silver lining for his odd behaviors was his predictability, you couldn’t really remember an instance where he kept you guessing. Even the food, (though, today wasn’t the best example), was always presented in such a particular way. Where he sat at the table, his precise mannerisms as he ate, everything, really. It’s like he constantly followed some unspoken order. Not really a quirk, because if anything deterred from the usual he’d seem very disturbed, but an intimate detail nonetheless.
He placed your dish down in front of you before sitting down himself, not taking his eyes away until you had a bite.
“What do you think?” he said, not planning to eat himself until you responded.
You nodded. “It’s great, you’re my favorite chef, Kira.”
His look lingered for a second longer before he gently scoffed and he took a bite himself.
Watching him, you brushed your foot against his under the table to see if he’d react in any way. He didn’t. He simply kept eating, acting as if nothing were happening, but at the same time didn’t bother to move it away, just allowing you to mess with him, which you did for a while, mindlessly as you tried to figure out a way to approach your dilemma.
This moment was as good as any to present him with that gift, but, maybe after a few minutes of eating. Just a bit more time to compose yourself, then you’d give it to him.
“Is something the matter with you?” He stated, eyeing you intently.
You laughed and shifted in your seat. “What? No, why?”
“You’re restless.”
Your face felt suspiciously hot. A wife, and a woman long past juvenile fluster, there was an awkward hesitation to give your own husband a gift. A bit unbelievable.
You laughed again. “Well… I, uhm, I actually got you something, I don’t know if you’ll like it or not.”
If you were looking, you might have noticed the slightest softening of his face.
“Well, are you planning to give it to me now or later?”
All hopes for composure were miserably pointless. Without saying anything, you simply got up and retrieved the small box from the secret drawer and slid it over to him after you sat back down. He eyed it intently, positioning it perfectly aligned in front of him before looking back up at you. He didn’t exactly enjoy surprises.
“What is it?”
“You gotta open it.”You fixed your hands in your lap, suddenly feeling self-conscious as he removed the top, revealing your gift. A custom, mulberry silk tie with an intricate herringbone weave, in a deep forest green that fit his complexion as perfectly as you imagined. You were silent as he picked it up from the box and observed the fabric between his fingers, taking in the thought and quality of your gift.A small part of him bristled at being outdone, and though wouldn't admit it, he was also touched.
You laughed again. “Uhm, well, I really didn’t know what to get you. It’s embarrassing, but I don’t really know what you like, but I know you wear ties nearly everyday. I know you like practicability, so I thought, why not? I think the tie is very you.”
It certainly wasn’t a color he’d pick out himself. He thought that right away. But, the way that this tie was how you allegedly saw him, even just a little, made an odd feeling bubble in his chest. He didn’t have a single tie in this color, and the sudden realization that you must’ve known that too made his chest feel a little tighter. He set the tie back in its box and gave a quiet thanks, and the exchange was over. At least to you it was. He’d be the one to suffer and relive the exchange and sentiments each morning he contemplated wearing it, and as if that wasn’t enough, the later idea of you acknowledging him wearing it was all the more stress inducing. But for now, he simply set it on his dresser, fondly looking at it before leaving the room.
Later into the evening, you thought it was odd that he sat next to you on the couch as you surfed through channels. You decided to say nothing, but were soon taken out of your focus as you felt him grab your hand and give it a squeeze, taking the remote from your reach as he spoke to you.
“I think the evening of our anniversary would be better spent in bed.”