The sunlight filtered through the bedroom window, painting soft golden lines across the sheets still tousled from their early morning embrace. Sora, propped on one elbow, brushed back a lock of Haru's messy hair, eyes warm with a sleepy, satisfied glow.
Haru blinked at him with flushed cheeks, still catching his breath. The afterglow clung to him like silk — all warmth and softness — his expression somewhere between dazed and shy.
Sora chuckled lowly. "So…" he leaned in, brushing his lips across Haru's cheek, "…what are you making for breakfast?"
Haru blinked again, then turned his head away with a small huff. "I was going to make miso soup and rice… maybe grilled fish," he mumbled.
Sora's smile widened. "Traditional. I like it." He pressed a soft kiss to Haru's bare shoulder. "It'll taste even better knowing you made it looking like this."
Haru swatted at him playfully. "Pervert."
"Mm. Only for you."
Sora leaned in again, this time catching Haru's lips in a gentle, unhurried kiss. Haru responded slowly, his hand resting on Sora's chest for a moment before pushing him back with a flushed scowl.
Then Sora, a mischievous glint in his eyes, murmured, "Are you going to wear panties forever now?"
Haru tensed slightly but didn't look away. "You love seeing me like this," he said, almost like an accusation, though his voice was soft. "So… I wear them."
Sora paused, eyes lingering on Haru's face for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Then he smiled, kissed him again — slower this time, more lingering — as if savoring the moment.
"So devoted," he whispered when they parted.
Haru rolled his eyes and sat up, grabbing the blanket to drape over himself. "You're impossible."
Sora's grin widened. "You know, if you're going to cook for me, you could just wear the panties. And maybe an apron."
Haru stared at him, face redder than the rising sun. "You… you really are a pervert!"
Laughing, Sora reached out to grab him again, but Haru ducked away, flustered. "I'm going to make breakfast!" he shouted, hopping off the bed and scooping up his clothes.
Still blushing fiercely, he padded barefoot out of the bedroom, muttering to himself all the way to the kitchen.
Sora watched him go, amused and entirely enchanted.
He stayed in bed for a few more minutes, letting the quiet hum of morning settle around him. Then, with a stretch and a satisfied sigh, he rolled out from under the covers and followed the faint clinking sounds coming from the kitchen.
As he stepped into the hall, he paused — and nearly burst out laughing.
There, standing at the counter with his back to the hallway, was Haru.
He was actually wearing it.
A frilly pink apron, tied neatly around his waist, the strings crisscrossed delicately over his back. And underneath it — just as Sora had teased — were the same panties from before, hugging him perfectly. His legs were bare, his hair a soft, tousled mess, and there was a subtle shimmy to his movements as he focused on plating the grilled fish.
Sora swallowed a laugh and moved silently across the floor, careful not to make a sound.
When he finally reached him, he slid his arms around Haru's waist from behind, pulling him in close.
"Good morning, chef," he whispered into his ear, smirking.
Haru jumped, nearly dropping the spatula. "S-Sora! You—! How long were you standing there?!"
"Long enough," he teased, nuzzling against Haru's neck. "You really did it."
"D-Don't say it like that!" Haru squirmed, but Sora only held him tighter, laughing softly.
"You're seriously the cutest thing I've ever seen," Sora murmured, brushing a kiss just behind Haru's ear. "That little apron, those legs… it's like a dream come true."
"You're so embarrassing," Haru muttered, cheeks burning, but he didn't move away.
Instead, he let himself lean back into the embrace, letting Sora's warmth wrap around him like a second blanket.
Sora rested his chin on Haru's shoulder, watching him continue to work with lazy, half-lidded eyes. "You're spoiling me, you know that?"
"I'm just making breakfast."
"You're making my entire life, Haru."
"…That's corny."
Sora laughed again, and kissed the top of Haru's head. "You love it."
"…Maybe."
The kitchen was filled with the smell of grilled fish and miso, the steam curling in lazy waves above the stove. Outside, birds chirped lightly, and the world slowly came to life.
But in that moment — in that warm, quiet kitchen — it felt like time had stopped. Just the two of them, wrapped up in each other, apron strings and all.
And for Sora, there was nowhere else in the world he'd rather be.
Sora stayed behind Haru, arms wrapped loosely around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder. The soft sizzle of the pan and the gentle scent of dashi broth surrounded them, cozy and domestic. Haru's movements had settled again — slicing tofu, checking rice, gently stirring — but the way his ears stayed pink gave away how flustered he still was.
Sora's lips brushed the curve of Haru's neck.
"I meant it," he said quietly.
Haru paused, glancing over his shoulder. "Meant what?"
"That you're making my whole life."
Haru looked away. "Sora…"
"I'm serious."
Sora's voice had changed — lower, steadier, quieter in a way that made Haru's breath still in his lungs. He turned the flame down on the stove, just to buy time, not sure why his chest was tightening. The air had suddenly shifted.
Then Sora spoke again, right next to his ear:
"Let's get married after college."
The words landed like a thunderclap in a rainless sky.
Haru blinked.
"…Huh?"
Sora slowly pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. "You heard me."
Haru's hands shook slightly as he set down the ladle. "Y-You— You're joking, right?"
"Why would I joke about that?"
"We're—" Haru turned, pressing a palm to Sora's chest as if needing space to breathe. "We're still in high school."
Sora smiled faintly. "And we'll graduate in a few months. Then college. Then what? I don't want to just be your boyfriend forever."
Haru's mouth opened, then closed again. His cheeks were a soft, deep red, eyes wide.
"I'm not saying we have to run off tomorrow," Sora added, his voice more careful now. "But I want to know that's where we're heading."
Haru looked down, his bangs falling into his eyes.
"Marriage is… big. Huge." His voice was small. "People don't even know about us."
"Do you want them to?"
Haru's breath hitched. He wasn't sure. He never had been. The thought of holding Sora's hand in public — of owning that love, without hiding — scared him. But so did the thought of losing it.
"I'm scared," Haru whispered.
Sora's eyes softened.
"Of what?" he asked gently, brushing a strand of hair from Haru's cheek.
"Of people. Of being wrong. Of not being enough. I… I'm scared you'll realize I'm not the one."
"You're everything I want," Sora said immediately. No hesitation. No cracks. Just truth.
Haru's chest tightened, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.
"You say that now."
"I'll say it in five years. I'll say it in fifty."
"Sora…"
Sora cupped his cheek, thumb grazing gently across the warm flush there. "Do you know how long I've loved you?"
"You always say since we were kids."
"No," Sora said, shaking his head. "That was like. That was infatuation, curiosity. Love… love came later. It came when I saw how much you held yourself back just to make others comfortable. It came when you cried in front of me the first time. It came when you let me see you like this—" he glanced down at the frilly apron and bare legs — "without shame."
Haru swallowed hard.
"I want a future with you," Sora continued. "And if you're not ready to promise anything yet… that's okay. But I want you to know that I am."
Haru reached up slowly, fingers wrapping around Sora's wrist. He pressed his forehead to Sora's chest, voice trembling.
"You're really saying this now… after I just gave you breakfast sex and wore panties for you?"
Sora laughed quietly. "You did look marriage-worthy in that apron."
Haru gave a watery snort, then let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob.
"I don't know if I'm brave enough to be married someday."
Sora hugged him tighter. "Then let me be brave for both of us until you are."
They stood like that for a long moment, the kitchen bathed in quiet light, the miso long forgotten on the stove.
"…Would you want a big wedding?" Haru asked softly, after a while.
Sora blinked, startled. "Are you saying yes?"
"I'm saying… I'll think about it," Haru murmured. "But if I did say yes… it'd have to be something small. I couldn't handle a hundred eyes on me."
Sora kissed his hair. "Then small it is."
"Maybe somewhere quiet. Outside."
"Under cherry blossoms," Sora suggested.
Haru's lips twitched. "You're ridiculous."
"You love me anyway."
"…Yeah," Haru whispered. "I do."
Sora smiled, warmth blooming in his chest. He pulled back just enough to lift Haru's chin, then kissed him again — this time with a soft desperation, a promise layered in every movement.
When they parted, Haru's eyes were glassy but shining.
"After college," he said again, quietly. "If we still feel the same way."
"We will," Sora said.
Haru looked at him for a long moment.
"…Then ask me again. Four years from now. With a ring."
"I will."
"And maybe I'll say yes."
Sora smiled wider. "You just did."
Haru rolled his eyes, turned back to the stove — cheeks still red, heart thundering.
Sora stood there a moment longer, watching him.
And even though nothing was signed or official, something had changed.
Their future had finally taken shape — not as a dream, but as something real.
Something worth holding on to.
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END OF CHAPTER : 91 : PROMISE!
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