Sunlight dapples on the bench’s surface as it filters between the trees. Komorebi, they call it.
”I thought you hated it when you sat on the flowers,” Youichi murmurs, eyes half-lidded as he glances at his yifu — his godfather, Nijuuichi.
“You remembered?” Nijuuichi asks, astonished. “I mean, I don’t want to kill them… But I don’t want to trouble you either.”
"If I make a fucking drinking game out of the times you’ve said that—” Youichi mutters, finally lowering his foot when all the flowers have been wiped off the bench. “—I’d be dead in a ditch.”
Yet, as Youichi slowly lowers his yifu onto the stone bench, the attentive care and the gentleness in his movements are a stark contrast to his sharp words.
“That would be quite unfortunate, then,” Nijuuichi says, patting Youichi’s arm in fond gratitude when his the teenager puts him down. He smiles up at Youichi. “Because my godson has always been so good to me.”
Nijuuichi’s face and hair are dazzlingly bright with komorebi, the sunlight pooling sweetly within a dimple on his cheek. Some of the liquid gold rays catch in a few locks of his white hair, lighting them up as if they too contained small suns within them.
Youichi’s eyes widen for a fraction before he smooths his expression into something mild. But his heart pounds like the thrumming of wedding bells, and he can’t keep the affection from his crinkling eyes.
This is Youichi’s secret: he’s in love with his yifu.
"Of Yifus and Yifu-fuckers" on AO3
