In the week since they moved to their new apartment, Chris and Eijun have settled into the role of dysfunctional newlyweds, or as close to that as two men can possibly get. It's a nice apartment, Chris thinks, barring their forever-scarred relationship with the landlord because of Eijun's incessant complaint about the walls being too thin. Really, nobody wants to hear why you need a soundproof bedroom. The second bedroom is just for show anyway—mostly for those unexpected visits from family and friends—because Eijun will find a way to Chris' room no matter what kind of lock the latter uses.
The bathroom, to Eijun's delight, is big enough for two people and Chris is running out of excuses to keep the younger man from getting in the shower with him. Eijun's a hopeless, embarrassing romantic who sings love songs as they bathe, whispers sweet nothings in his ear, and spends more time cuddling than getting clean. The worst part, in Chris' opinion, is how he's far from hating it.
It isn't all bad. Eijun does his fair share of the housework. Actually, he's even better at doing the laundry, a fact that Chris plans to take full advantage of. After all, it's Eijun's fault his clothes keep getting dirty, what with the way the younger man peels them off every time and casually discards them on the floor. As much as their neighbors don't want to hear about what happens when the pair's clothes start coming off, they don't have much of a choice. The walls are thin, after all.
Chris takes care of the cooking and in the two years that they've been dating, he has come to accept that his partner is a carnivore in more ways than one. As for Eijun, he's still trying to get used to the fact that there's a freshly-cooked dinner and an apron-clad Chris waiting for him when he gets home, but it's something he has grown to look forward to. Although it's not easy declining Miyuki's karaoke invitations after work. That guy really needs to find someone else to hang out with, maybe get drunk and get it on with their co-worker Furuya and never look back.
"Or Kuramochi," Chris suggests. "I've always gotten a different vibe from those two."
"Really? But I always thought Miyuki-san had a thing for you, Senpai."
Chris chokes on his coffee and Eijun gives him the look of someone with a dirty secret.
They have a dog, mostly because Eijun found out the tenants next door, the Kominato brothers, had one. Eijun's the type of guy that makes a competition out of everything, you see. It's a snow-white Pomeranian that loves to smother Chris' face with dog kisses, and Eijun just laughs while going on a tangent about how cute his boyfriend is. It's times like those that Chris wishes they got a cat instead.
Their television is a bulky, blocky relic that Chris inherited from his father, one that constantly needs a "light pat on the back" to make the image clearer. There's nothing light about the way Eijun pats anyone's back, mind you, especially not Chris' back side. But that's a story better left in the confines of their bedroom.
"Does it still hurt, Senpai?"
"Kindly shut up."
Eijun, forever a kid at heart, loves video games and Chris saves up enough money to buy a Nintendo Wii. Sure, it's not exactly the latest in gaming technology, but Eijun's grateful all the same. Of course his favorite is the baseball game, mostly because of how easy it is to trick Chris into "helping him with his form." The surprised look on the older man's face whenever he realizes they've somehow ended up in an awkward hug never gets old.
Chris works at a public high school as a teacher and Eijun at a nearby spa, and while they're not exactly swimming in money by any stretch of the imagination, their combined salaries are enough to get by. Though sometimes Chris has his doubts whenever Eijun comes home smelling like lavender and chamomile.
"The smell of those oils just gets on my clothes," Eijun explains. "Don't worry, Senpai, I'm a receptionist, not a masseur. The only one I touch is you."
"I'd appreciate it if you would keep your hands to yourself."
"Oh, I touch myself plenty. Wanna watch?"
Eijun attempts to placate his lover's anger by stealing a kiss and shooting him a lopsided grin. It works like a charm and he's free to whisk the dazed Chris into their room, where they'll wake up the next morning tangled in each other's arms. This is when Eijun professes his undying love for the umpteenth time and all Chris can do is murmur "I love you, too."
Honestly, how can Chris compete with a guy like that? He thinks volume equals confidence and assumes every headache is the symptom of a brain tumor. Really, he's an idiot, and Chris is also sort of an idiot for putting up with him, if only because "Eijun Sawamura-Takigawa" has a nice ring to it, even if they'll never see it printed in an official marriage certificate. Let's face it, their conservative society's not going to let two guys tie the knot any time soon. But that's alright; there's no rush. After all, there's something very romantic about a wedding ring that only the two of them can see.