Chapter Text
It's a significant event when Kanda Yuu receives mail. He typically takes pains to avoid it: ignoring events and organizations in his community, sustaining himself without a line of credit, and being generally unpleasant have done him wonders. Being unreliable enough as to not warrant contacting is all that he's ever wanted.
All of this is to say that when Yuu opens his door to find a silver A7 envelope on his doormat, it raises his hackles. He stoops to pick it up, already glaring, and then pauses with his fingertips just grazing the material. The return address is attributed to one Lenalee Lee. He had spoken to her on the phone not three days ago; why in hell would she write him a letter?
He kicks off his shoes and shuffles into his kitchen, where he stands over the island counter with the envelope and a brown bag of take-out in one hand and his cellphone in the other.
All rules have exceptions, and Lenalee can send him all of the letters that she wants, but he can't imagine why she would want to. There are faster ways to get in touch with him. There are ways to get in touch with him that don't spike his cortisol; he doesn't react with so much hostility to his email inbox.
Yuu flips his cellphone open and dials Lenalee's number.
It rings two times while he shrugs the coat from his shoulders. The call connects before he's fished the chopsticks out of his bag, and he waits, as is his custom, for her to speak first.
There's a beat of anticipatory silence over the line; a slight intake of breath. "Did you get it?" Lenalee asks without greeting him.
"Yes," Yuu answers, "but help me understand why you would send me anything in the first place." He tears the plastic lids off of his food and tosses them into the sink behind him. The condensation gathering there for every second that he isn't eating makes the noodles unbearably wet.
"What?"
It's at this moment, ready to tuck in to his meal, that Yuu realizes he might be missing something important, and hurriedly he wedges the phone between his ear and shoulder to tear Lenalee's envelope open.
"Well, I dunno, Kanda-- it's only tradition. I only wanted you to be surprised. 'Oh, congratulations Lenalee! Your choice of font was inspired, Lenalee! Of course I'll come!'"
Shit, shit, shit. "Hold on, hold on; I haven't actually opened it yet."
"Oh! Oh, my god, Kanda! Open it!"
"'Working on it... You really think I would compliment your font?"
"Shut up. Work faster!"
And then the letter is in his hands, and it isn't a letter at all. What he holds is thick, textured card stock with deckle edges and a ribbon woven into the bottom, tied in a delicate bow.
TOGETHER WITH THEIR FAMILIES
Allen Walker AND Lenalee Lee
REQUEST THE HONOR OF YOUR PRESENCE ON THEIR WEDDING DAY
He stares down at the invitation. That is an appropriate font; the letters are thin, soft-edged but purposeful, and the l's swoop elegantly over and under their neighbors. It practically screams 'wedding'. Therein lies the problem. Lenalee Lee, who he still vividly recalls filling the pockets of her overalls with worms on the playground, and spending the whole night of junior prom rubbing his back in the bathroom while he vomited his guts out, and accelerating into rather than reversing away from the curb in Komui's car-- she's getting married. The girl who takes football so seriously that they actually kicked her off of the varsity team-- she's going to be a wife. She's going to marry that clown that she started dating in college.
"Come on; how long does it take to open an envelope, Kanda?"
"You're getting married," Yuu says dumbly. And why is he even surprised? She's always been the braver, the more mature between them. She isn't afraid of her mailbox, for one thing.
"Yes!" she shouts. "And now you say..."
Where Yuu has spent his life with her alone, she's been pulled in every direction by all of the love that she has to give.
"Congratulations, Lenalee."
Seemingly oblivious to his strife, Lenalee offers him a giggle in return. "Finally! Thank you, Kanda."
Yuu drops the invitation onto the counter and stomps out of his kitchen, conscious of the way that his ponytail thrashes behind his back but unwilling to restrain himself further; he's already expending enough effort trying not to ask her if she's serious. Ignoring whatever cloud of self-pitying miasma has settled over him, on the single occasion that Yuu had met Allen Walker, he hadn't been impressed. Lenalee talks about him as if he'd hung the moon.
Lenalee interrupts his tantrum, as only she can. "I actually had a question for you."
"What is it?"
"Kanda... Would you be in my maid of honor?"
For the second time in ten minutes, he's stunned to silence.
"Or, you know, my man of honor. Like a maid of honor, but a man? You're my best friend, Kanda, and it would mean a lot to me to have you in my wedding party. Please, please, please stand next to me at the altar in case I need to hold your hand, or in case I freak out and I need somebody to carry me to the bathroom so I can throw up."
"Allen wouldn't carry you to the bathroom?" Yuu finds himself asking, rather than answering.
"Of course he would, but I don't want to risk throwing up on him on my wedding day."
"But you would throw up on me."
"That's not even a question. Don't you remember junior prom?"
The violent pressure in his chest recedes. "Cheap Thrills," he answers quietly.
"So, will you do it?"
As if there exists a world where he would say 'no'. He hangs his head, feels his whole body sag under its own weight. "I'll do it."
She screams, some high-pitched yowl from her throat and not her chest, and Yuu rips the phone away from his ear before it can deafen him. "Yes! Yes! Yes! I can't wait to see you! Now you have to come to England! And you have to spend time with Allen!"
Yuu tips his head back as far as it'll go. "Ah. So it was an elaborate trap."
"If you would come back to visit me sometime, I wouldn't need to trap you. This is your own fault."
"Right. Listen." Yuu takes in a deep breath, lets it out again slow. "I'm going to ask you a question, and once you answer it, you can never bring it up again."
Lenalee laughs. "Uh-oh."
"No; listen."
"I'm always listening, Kanda."
"Ew."
"Ask your question."
He can only steel himself so much. Yuu drags his bottom lip through his clenched teeth and asks, "do you love him?"
This time, it's Lenalee who goes quiet. When she answers, Yuu can hear the smile in her voice. "I really do."
After they've both hung up, Yuu lingers in his living room with the cellphone in his hand, staring up at the ceiling where tree branches cast arrhythmic dancing shadows. Then he puts Lenalee's wedding invitation on his refrigerator.