World Turned Sweet

Fuku has always lived his life as he pleased, doing whatever he wanted without forethought. It worked out for him, usually; with a genuinely easygoing nature, living so carefree came to him naturally, and he got by just fine. He never wanted for anything, and when he desired something—whether it be a good meal or a warm body to fall into bed with—he could get it with no effort on his part. He was lucky. Life was just easy for him. Without experiencing hardships, he couldn’t find it in him to take much of anything too seriously.

So when he’s asked by a dangerous-looking bun to be his boyfriend after multiple “dates” together, Fuku doesn’t really put much thought into it. He says yes with a cute smile and a tilt of his head, because being with the man is fun, and Fuku likes to have fun. That’s all a relationship needs to be, he thinks—just two people having fun together.

Fuku was very good at starting relationships. Maintaining them, however…

Something changes after Fuku says yes to the man—to Gyutan. Gyutan would barely talk at all on a good day, content with letting his hands and fangs do whatever talking he thought was necessary. But once they became an “item”, he tried to initiate conversation a little more. It wasn’t an unwelcome change; Fuku delighted in the novelty of hearing the man speak, and found that it didn’t take much to have Gyutan grousing about something or another (something that Fuku would come to enjoy doing, time and time again—). When he pushed Gyutan hard enough, the man would resort back to his old ways, pawing at Fuku’s thighs and biting at his neck, perhaps in frustration—or payback for the teasing. It didn’t matter to Fuku either way, because it was still fun.

Then one day, Gyutan disappears. Fuku finds himself missing the man’s company, but it’s not the end of the world. He moves on, as he always does—finds others in need of companionship, which he freely gives, content to charm his way into the hearts of others instead. If he daydreams about Gyutan’s oft-unfriendly expression or how his body felt pressed against theirs from time to time, well, he wouldn’t say much on it. What was there to say?

---

“I don’t usually see you looking so…introspective,” Komugi says one day, tossing a cushion directly at Fuku’s face. It meets its target, and Fuku is snapped out of his thoughts with an oof. He worries away at his lower lip.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“For you?” Komugi hums in thought, but Fuku knows it’s only for show. He’s already made up his mind, and with a cheeky grin he says, “...Yeah, absolutely. I’d say you don’t normally think too hard in general. So, what is it?”

Fuku shifts in his seat. He doesn’t know how to explain the fact that he’s still thinking about a man months after their last meeting, and he doesn’t really want to, either—because it would mean he’d have to admit to missing someone, something completely novel to him and unpleasant besides. But he’s only digging a hole for himself: the longer he doesn’t respond, the smaller Komugi’s smile becomes. It’s not long before Komugi is arching his brows, his tail whipping behind him.

“...Must be bad, huh?”

---

Many months pass before he sees Gyutan again and, ironically, they run into each other in the likeliest of places: the cafe where they had met in the first place. For the first time in his life, Fuku is overwhelmed with emotion—sorrow, anger, bitterness, relief, joy, elation—but it all washes away when he sees the hesitation in Gyutan’s expression, and the bags underneath his eyes.

When it comes to men, Fuku values strength. He’s attracted to buns who could kill with a look alone, whose bark is backed up by their bite, so Gyutan’s vulnerable look should turn him off…instead, it elicits a completely unexpected emotion: adoration. So Fuku raises a hand and smiles at him, and is delighted when Gyutan—so tall that Fuku’s fingers barely brush against his collarbones when he’s on the tips of his toes—lowers himself enough for the shorter bun to caress his cheek.

“You look like you’ve barely been getting sleep,” Fuku says, and Gyutan only responds with something that barely passes as a hum, more a grumble, but the younger bun is pleased with the reply nonetheless. And just like that, they fall into routine again, as if there had never been months of longing between them.

---

His name is Chiharu.

As Fuku’s and Gyutan’s schedules line up once more, Fuku learns about Gyutan’s old flame—the reason for his sudden disappearance. They have…rekindled something, Gyutan says with a brief pause, and Chiharu lives with him now. It took time for the bun to settle down, but now that he has, Gyutan extends an offer to Fuku: to live with them both. Had it been anyone else, Fuku would have laughed. They couldn’t have their cake and eat it too, and he had no desire for the domesticity that living with a boyfriend would entail—especially not when that boyfriend was pushing his luck by being greedy. But Fuku wouldn’t deny that the idea sounded a little fun. 

“What’s Chiharu like?” He asks one day. Gyutan’s roaming hands pause, and he gives the question some thought before answering.

“Quiet.” He kisses Fuku’s neck, and Fuku giggles.

“And?”

Fuku doesn’t miss the way Gyutan pauses again, his teeth hovering over his fluttering pulse. If he stills his breathing, he swears he can even hear the gears turning in the older man’s head. There is a noticeable stretch of silence before Gyutan answers again. “Elegant.”

“You’re really bad at describing people, you know,” Fuku titters.

Gyutan grumbles. “He was once an entertainer. I met him while I was still in the yakuza.”

“Oooh, an entertainer for the yakuza? Sounds dangerous…”

“He can hold his own. You’d like him. It takes him a while to warm up to people, but I think that you would grow on him.”

Fuku can’t help the prideful little grin that overtakes him at Gyutan’s comment. “Aw, you think so? If that’s the case, introduce me to him!”

The rumble in Gyutan’s chest is the only acknowledgement he receives before the man’s hands and lips are on him again.

---

Chiharu is beautiful. Fuku can’t help the blush that creeps onto his cheeks when they meet for the first time, nor the way his tail wags eagerly behind him as he introduces himself. He is oblivious to Chiharu’s hesitation: the way he gently shies away from Fuku’s presence, or how his pretty peach blossom eyes quickly shift between the snowy-haired bun and the door, as if looking for someone—Gyutan, who was conveniently nowhere to be found.

“You’re very pretty, Chiharu,” Fuku says with a beaming smile, taking one of Chiharu’s exceptionally soft hands between his own. He stifles the urge to lace their fingers together; Chiharu’s expression is one of muted bewilderment, but Fuku presses on, unfazed. “Gyutan thinks that you’d like me, so I have to prove him right. Let’s get to know each other better soon!”

Chiharu’s lips part as if he wants to say something, and Fuku looks at them, wondering if they felt as soft as they appeared. He leans in, anticipating what the envy-horned man is about to say, but the moment is ruined when the door behind him opens. Something unreadable passes through Chiharu’s gaze as he looks at the newcomer, and Fuku turns to see who it is.

“Gyutan.” Chiharu’s voice is lovely, like cool silk on a kimono. It makes the back of Fuku’s head tingle pleasantly.

Gyutan separates them after that and offers to take a reluctant Fuku home. With one last look at Chiharu, Fuku departs with a wave.

“I think I made a good first impression,” He says. Gyutan’s only response is an arch of his brow.

---

The next time Fuku visits to see Chiharu, the envy-horned bun is sitting on an engawa that overlooks the tsubo-niwa in Gyutan’s spacious home. In front of him is a short easel, and in his hand is a paintbrush; he seems to be painting the garden scenery in front of him. There is a gentle curve to his lips as he paints, and Fuku notes that even though he’s relaxed, his posture is immaculate: he sits in seiza-style with ease, back straight, looking every bit like some of the paintings that adorned Gyutan’s walls. Whatever he was painting, it couldn’t possibly be as beautiful as he was.

“Gyutan didn’t tell me that you liked to paint,” Fuku says, and immediately regrets it—startled, the ghost of a smile leaves Chiharu’s face as his head whips around to look at him. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt…I couldn’t help it. You look very pretty when you paint. If I was any good at drawing, I’d love to draw you.”

The compliment brings a lovely blush to Chiharu’s cheeks, and he purses his lips before speaking. “...Thank you.”

“Do you mind if I sit and watch you work? It’s very peaceful out here.” Warm crystal light filters through the broad leaves of the sole tree in the garden, and the intermittent thunk of the shishi-odoshi as the bamboo hits against the rock behind it is enough to lull Fuku into a state of calm. It would be nice, he thinks, to spend some days lounging out here. Moving in with Gyutan is beginning to sound more enticing…

Fuku is so caught up with the scenery that he doesn’t notice the hesitation in Chiharu’s expression before they reply. “Mn. You can.”

So he spends the day that way, sitting by Chiharu’s side and watching him paint until Gyutan inevitably separates them to bring him back home.

The cycle repeats itself for a while. Fuku visits Gyutan’s home and bothers Chiharu in any way he can, and slowly but surely Chiharu opens up to him. Fuku cherishes all of their firsts: the first time Chiharu smiles for him, underneath the shade of the tree in the tsubo-niwa one balmy summer afternoon; when Chiharu laughs at him as he impersonates Gyutan, the sound of his voice so enchanting that it distracts him from his mimicry; the first time Chiharu initiates physical contact, and sits so close to Fuku that their shoulders and thighs touch; and the first time they kiss, slow and sweet, and Fuku learns that those lips are as soft as they look.

When Gyutan catches them in the act, Fuku’s mind is finally decided.

“You know, moving in doesn’t sound so bad after all…”

---

Komugi is sad to see him go, but he hides it as best as he can, only giving away his displeasure at mentions of Gyutan.

“You’ll tell me if anything is wrong, right? You can text or call me anytime.”

They linger by the doorway to Komugi’s apartment. All of Fuku’s belongings—which isn’t much to begin with—sits by his side in a rolling suitcase, one that hasn’t seen the light of day since he first moved in with his best friend. Fuku smiles and lets Komugi fuss over him, knowing that it’ll be the last time he’ll be able to do so in a while.

“Yes Mugi, you know I’ll still text you anyway. Don’t worry so much!”

“Worry? Me?” Komugi scowls, but the way he averts his gaze and crosses his arms defensively over his chest gives him away.

“Yes, you,” Fuku replies cheekily. “I’ll be fine, I promise…so stop being so mopey. You know that was never a good look on you.”

The taller bun rolls his eyes, but a smile breaks out on his face nonetheless as his eyes slide back to his friend’s. He sighs wistfully then says, “...Pochi is really gonna miss you, you know. I’ll need to look for another impsitter…”

“I’m sure you’ll find another good one. In the meantime, don’t stress yourself out too much. Make sure you cook some meals for yourself—”

“—ugh, cooking—”

“And if you decide to binge takeout, at least get something with more than a speck of green in it. Since I won’t be cooking for you anymore, you have to promise me, okay? Send me pictures of your meals, and I’ll text you back.”

Komugi’s brows practically shoot up to his hairline. “Wow, are you going to withhold talking to me if I don’t show you what I’m eating? You’re so cruel. Ugh, okay, I’ve had enough of you. Is that wa—is Gyutan here to pick you up yet? Tell him to hurry up.”

Laughing, Fuku takes hold of his suitcase before pulling Komugi into a one-armed embrace. “I’ll miss you, too. I’ll text you when I’m all settled in, okay?”

“...Okay. That guy better treat you right.”

Fuku has no doubt that Gyutan will treat him right, but can he do the same…? Only time will tell. He was never good at maintaining relationships after all, but now…he genuinely wants to try his best.

So he will try.