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Itaru stared at the sleek black object in his hands like it was his first day on planet Earth.
“…Oh, Chikage darling?”
“Yes, sweetcheeks?” said his partner, without so much as a twitch in his expression.
“What the hell is this?”
“It’s called a stapler. An exotic and fascinating device, I know. It’s said that office workers use them to join stacks of related documents together-”
“You know damn well what I meant. Why’s it in this gift basket?”
Chikage tilted his head to the side, an infuriating smile playing on his lips. “Surely you must be sensing a theme by now.”
Itaru looked to the array of objects spread across the dining room table. A stack of printer paper, A4, 500 sheets. An unopened package of ballpoint pens, black. A pocket-sized bottle of hand sanitizer, gerbera-scented. A package of sticky notes, tricolor. And at the bottom of the gift basket, hidden beneath the cheesy pink satin bow, was a hole punch with a very familiar nameplate engraved on it.
“Property of B. Throgmorton, Do Not Remove- Are you shitting me? This is the CFO’s hole punch! How did you even find this?”
“I knew you’d like it. I had to pull a couple strings to get my hands on it, but it was all worth it.”
“Look, I’m all for eating the rich, but if we’re caught stealing the CFO’s office supplies, we’re screwed. Like, we’ll-never-get-hired-in-this-city-again screwed.”
“Relax. Considering how little actual work our CFO does every day, he won’t even notice it’s missing.”
Itaru sighed, flinging the stapler onto the dining room table with a clatter. “Okay, but seriously. You forgot, didn’t you?”
“Elaborate.”
“You forgot our anniversary.” Itaru gestured to the office supplies. “And last night at eleven PM, you snuck out to the office supply store and threw together this… monstrosity so that you’d at least have something for me. That’s it, right?”
“What a delightful imagination you have.”
“Oh, don’t give me that-!” Itaru cut himself off when he realized he was shouting. He stole a glance at the Spring Troupe on the other side of the lounge. They were all sitting on the couches, engrossed in their books and music, and trying very hard to look like they weren’t eavesdropping.
“Don’t give me that shit,” Itaru repeated, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I know you’re hiding something, I just know it. So skip the foreplay and fess up.”
“Fess up to what, exactly?” Chikage coolly folded his arms. “As far as I can tell, the only crime I’ve committed is giving you a thoughtful anniversary gift.”
“You call THIS a thoughtful anniversary gift? I got you a ten-thousand yen bottle of hot sauce!”
“Which I appreciate, and already thanked you for.”
“That was money I could’ve been spending on the new Gawain gacha, y’know, and instead I cut my losses and spent it on you. And what do I get in return?”
“A beautiful stapler, for starters.”
“Nothing! Well, I’ve learned my lesson. 3-D partners are temporary, but gacha is forever.” Itaru pointed an accusatory finger. “Ruriko-chan would never treat me like this.”
Chikage cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t bring your ex-waifu into this.”
“Ugh, that’s enough.” Masumi flung his headphones aside and glared over the couch at the two of them. “First of all, Chikage, never say “waifu” again.”
“Done.”
“And second, Itaru, suck it up.”
“Suck it u- Have you even been listening? He’s so clearly in the wrong here that it’s not even-!”
“Itaru,” Sakuya piped up, “I know you’re upset, but I think you should at least hear Chikage out.”
“Indeed!” said Citron. “Because a little bird has told me that Chikage still has more to say. Is that not so, Chikage?”
Itaru rolled his eyes, but already he could sense the futility of the action. No matter how hard he tried, he was not immune to the gentle words of Sakuya and Citron. And he knew full well that Chikage was just as defenseless.
His partner sighed, but as he pushed up his glasses, Itaru noted that his eyes were tinted with amusement. “Very well. I’ll explain.”
“Oh, this’ll be good.”
“This was indeed not the anniversary gift I had planned for you. But though I was promised that my actual gift would arrive in time, there was an unforeseen delay.”
“What, did you order something and have it get lost in the mail?”
“Nothing like that. Apparently, they’re understaffed at the engraver’s.”
“The engraver’s? So it’s some kind of jewelry, or a trophy? I sure deserve a trophy for putting up with you for five years.”
“Because I’m in a good mood, I’ll ignore that.” Chikage twisted the ring on his finger, the silver one Itaru never saw him without. “I was told it would be ready on Friday at the latest. Rest assured, it’ll be in your hands before the week ends.”
“That’s the truth?”
“That’s the truth. No lies, no tricks.”
Itaru scrutinized his face, his tone of voice, his body language. After five years, he’d gotten pretty good at spotting when Chikage was lying by omission or twisting the truth. But as far as he could tell, his story was genuine. It wasn’t the words so much as the twisting of his ring that gave it away. It was an oddly nervous movement.
And if there was one thing he knew for certain about his unromantic senpai, it was that very, very few things made him nervous.
So Itaru let out a heavy sigh. “You should’ve just led with that.”
“Now where would the fun be in that?”
“Yeah, yeah. Well, fine, I guess as excuses go, that’s acceptable.”
“Indeed. And now you have something exciting to look forward to in a few days. If anything, you should thank me.”
“Thank you?!”
“You’re welcome.”
With that, Chikage stepped forward and tilted up Itaru’s chin – his signature move when he was trying to kiss him as patronizingly as he could. Itaru gritted his teeth, and when their lips met, he made sure his tongue slid into Chikage’s mouth as wetly and fleshily as possible.
Out the corner of his eye, he saw Masumi gag – his usual way of showing his support for their relationship – and slide his headphones back on. The rest of the Spring Troupe also quickly looked away in turn.
“Happy anniversary,” said Chikage, with a smile Itaru would’ve punched off his face if he felt like losing that hand.
“Tch,” he responded, channeling his inner Banri. Boy, was his inner Banri getting a lot of use today. But at the same time, his inner Sakuya lit up with a faint but meaningful joy as his partner left the kitchen, wiping the saliva from his lips.
They really had come a long way on the PDA front in five years, if nothing else.
“Soooo…”
Itaru turned on his heel and fixed the peanut gallery with a withering look. “Soooo, what?”
“Are you feeling excitement for tomorrow?” Citron plopped his chin into his hand and grinned rakishly. “Is your heart racing with the anticipation?”
“Guess that’s one way to say I’m deeply afraid.”
“You needn’t be!” Citron spread his arms. “For the gift Chikage has planned for you is the most romant-”
“Shh!” Tsuzuru, who had been silent until now, lunged to cover Citron’s mouth. “Dude, you’re going to ruin the surprise!”
“Surprise?” That didn’t fill Itaru with confidence. “Like, a good surprise?”
“Yeah!” said Sakuya, beaming. “You’re really, really going to love it. Trust me.”
Itaru trusted Sakuya with his life, his gacha games, and his life savings. Even so… “Yeah? Is that a promise?”
Masumi smiled. “You’re gonna flip. Your heart’ll probably give out on the spot.”
“I’m twenty-five, not retired.”
“You look worse than Sakyo, and he’s basically got one foot in the grave.”
“Spoken like a true teenager.”
“I’m twenty-one.”
“Once a teenager, always a teenager, I say.”
But underneath his deadpan comebacks, Itaru’s pulse was increasing. Sakuya and Citron smiling was normal. Tsuzuru too, to an extent. But if Masumi was smiling at him? It was definitely time to be concerned.
A chill ran down his spine as he pondered a question, not for the first time and definitely not for the last.
Just what in the world was his unromantic senpai up to?
***
On a Thursday like any other, he finally got his answer.
He was brushing the last of the Dorito dust off his briefcase handle when there was a knock on the door.
“Can you get that?” murmured Chikage past the tie clip in his mouth, still adjusting the tie’s knot.
“It’ll cost ya.”
“Put it on my tab.”
With a roll of his eyes, Itaru hoisted his briefcase and opened the door.
“Special delivery!” Izumi, beaming from ear to ear in a manner that was far too perky for seven in the morning, held out a package. It was tiny, almost small enough to fit in her hand, and plastered with red stickers reading FRAGILE.
Itaru blinked, once, twice. “Oh. Wasn’t expecting anything.”
“Well, it’s addressed to Chikage, so I suppose that makes sense.”
“To him?” Itaru turned. “Yo, didja order some spices again or-”
He almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Chikage come skidding to a halt beside him. He’d all but flown across the room.
“Geez, warn a guy! What’s the big idea?”
“This is it?” said Chikage, as if Itaru wasn’t there. His gaze bored into the small cardboard box like it contained a bomb, or possibly radioactive waste.
“Yep. It got here early! Isn't that nice?” Izumi held out the package, and Chikage gingerly took it. “I’ve got the receipt from the delivery person too, if you want it.”
“No, that’s… fine.” Chikage seemed to be talking to the box more than to Izumi, his stare unwavering. “Leave it on the kitchen table. Thank you.”
“Will do.” Izumi saluted cheerily. “Well, you two have fun!”
“Have… fun?” said Itaru.
“At work, of course!”
And before she turned and bounced away – seriously, how strong was her morning coffee? – Itaru could’ve sworn she saw her flash a thumbs-up.
If he was bewildered before, now he was positively flabbergasted. He turned to his roommate for answers, only to see him tearing open the box like a man possessed.
“Whoa, hey.” Itaru advanced, making sure to approach from a perpendicular angle. Chikage hated being surprised from behind. “What’d you order? Chill pills, I hope-”
Chikage wrenched away. Itaru only caught a glimpse of something blue and velvety before Chikage hunched over the package’s contents, blocking them from sight.
“Wait!”
It was the most frazzled he’d heard his partner’s voice sound in months. Itaru’s heart accelerated. Was it another panic attack? It’d been a while since the last major one.
“Hey,” he said again, quiet and even. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s happening-”
“I need to check that it’s correct. Wait a moment. Just… wait.”
Chikage inhaled, and upon breathing out, the crackling tension in the air dissipated. But Itaru felt no less calm as he heard the click of something being opened. A box?
His mind raced.
A box…
Blue velvet…
They’re understaffed at the engraver’s…
It is a good surprise. You’re really, really going to love it…
His stomach did a back handspring.
“Itaru?”
“Huh? Yeah?”
“I…”
Chikage was not an I… person. Not in the slightest. Itaru’s nerves were going haywire. It was all he could do to remain standing.
Surely not. Surely not-
All at once, Chikage thrust something towards him so fast Itaru thought it was a punch. He flinched on instinct, eyes fluttering shut.
When he dared to open them again, the first thing he saw was blue.
In Chikage’s hand, the same shade of royal blue as Lancelot’s cape, was a velvet box, and inside, on a bed of white satin, was a glittering silver ring.
As it turned out, Masumi’s prediction that Itaru’s heart would give out was completely accurate.
Itaru staggered backwards. His back hit the wall with a thud. There was another sound – a heavy crash and a light ping. His briefcase slammed into the floorboards, popping open as one of the clasps broke off. It spun off across the floor, gold and shimmering, as papers swirled free from their leather prison.
He could only speculate as to the state of his laptop. He would, if any of his organs were still functional.
Before him, Chikage stood, holding the box, calm. Perhaps only calm on the surface, but calm nonetheless. It infuriated Itaru sometimes, how unflappable he was. He hated it so much it swung all the way back around to love.
He gaped at the treasure in the box, frozen to the spot.
Surely, surely not.
“Say something, Itaru.”
His first name in Chikage’s mouth startled him. “Wh… What?”
“Funny.” Chikage scoffed quietly, a laugh neither sarcastic nor genuine. “You’d think after so much improv training, I’d know what to say.”
“You…” Itaru shook his head. “You’re joking.”
“No.”
“You’re joking, you’ve got to be-”
“I’m quite serious.”
“You’re… No. You’re really…”
“I am.” Chikage held out the box. “Take it.”
Itaru snatched the box from Chikage’s waiting palm. His sweaty hands left damp imprints on the velvet exterior. Inside, the silver ring sat, polished to a mirror shine.
“This is…” Itaru let out a crazed sort of laugh. “No way. This is… Gawain’s ring, isn’t it? From-”
“Knights of the Round XIV: Dark Circlet. The one he gave-”
“To Lancelot, right before the five-year timeskip, as proof of their-!”
“Unbreakable vow, yes. And this replica-”
“Is limited-edition!” Itaru touched it with trembling hands. “They only released ten of these! Ten! In 1997! How did you-?!”
“Get one? Child’s play. I just called in a favor or two from some old contacts of mine.”
“You…” Itaru laughed again, hysterical, childlike. “Who are you, and what have you done with my unromantic senpai?”
“And that’s not even the best part.”
Itaru tore his eyes away to see Chikage’s smile tracing the floorboards, going around each piece of paper scattered on the ground.
“Look closer, at the interior.”
Itaru looked. His vision was swimming, blurred with ecstasy and adrenaline and fervor, but his delirious eyes caught it. Only now did he spy delicate, engraved words looping around the ring’s interior.
De Votre Protecteur | From Your Gawain
Laughter bubbled in his throat again, but this time, no words accompanied it. The only words left in his mind, the only ones that mattered, were the ones carved into the ring. Over and over, they repeated, like echoing bells.
“Do you see it?” Chikage’s voice, from underneath the echoes. Itaru could hear the smile in it, and the tremor.
“You…”
“What?”
“You dumb bitch!” Like a dam breaking, the words cascaded out of him. “You got your hands on a one-of-a-kind piece of merch, and you got it engraved? Do you know how much that’ll tank the resale value?!”
“Sure, but it’s not worth crying over, is it?”
Itaru blinked. Ah. He was crying. When had that started happening? “Fucking- Whatever! You surprised me-!”
“That was the idea, yes.” Chikage’s smile widened, looking a bit more like his regular, mocking one. “Though I can’t believe it took you this long to put two and two together.”
“You didn’t get down on one knee, or give me some corny speech, or nothing! How was I supposed to know?!”
“I forgot.”
“Bullshit, you forgot!”
“Well, I did decide not to kneel. I only just got this suit dry-cleaned-”
“And- And why’d you pick now of all times?! I got a presentation today, I can’t go in there covered in snot and-”
“Because the sooner we inform the higher-ups, the more likely we are to get our paid time off.” Chikage spoke calmly, as though the water brimming in his own eyes was just from dust. “You do want us to be able to afford a half-decent ceremony, don’t you?”
“C… Ceremony?”
“Yes. And with the whole Mankai family coming, the catering bill alone will be a nightmare, so-”
Itaru wasn’t sure why his organs chose that moment to come back to life, but in the next instant, he was on the other side of the room.
They’d held one another as Lancelot and Gawain more times than Itaru could count. The audience always ate it up. With every revival show, they embraced longer, deeper, more tenderly. From a bear-hug of triumph after a victorious battle to a frantic cradling of the other’s wounded body, they were embraces no other co-lead pair in the company could match.
This hug put all of them to shame, Itaru thought.
He wiped his nose on Chikage’s suitjacket. His partner’s – his fiancé’s – fingers sank into his hair, mingling with the curls. A part of him, perhaps the only rational part left, wondered vacantly what time it was and whether he was going to miss the 7:30 train.
It was strange, the things he thought about in the moments when his whole life was changing.
“Happy anniversary,” he mumbled into the grey fabric of his fiancé’s suit.
Chikage said it back. Not with words, but with an even tighter embrace.
It didn’t occur to Itaru until much later that he hadn’t said the most important thing. Neither of them had. Chikage hadn’t said “will you marry me,” and Itaru hadn’t said “yes.” It simply hadn’t occurred to them.
In that small, perfect moment, neither of them needed to say anything more.