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Was it really a "reception" if it was just a bunch of mid-twenties-to-late-thirties men in yukata drinking sake and laughing loudly around a coffee table? That's what Noiz asked himself, watching Mizuki's friends make jabs at each other with a cup held loosely on his fingers.
He shouldn't have expected anything different, really. Mizuki and Sei didn't suit the idea of wedding receptions Noiz had constructed from the many parties he had to—begrudgingly—attend. One of them being Agnes and Emilia's; he still had headaches just from remembering the sheer extravagancy of the celebration. What kind of wedding reception lasted two days?
Mizuki and Sei were the very opposite of that. Firstly, Sei hated crowds and noisiness, so there was no way a big party would've been a comfortable endeavor for him.
Secondly, Mizuki still hated spending money, the cheapskate.
But then again, Noiz thought with a snort as his lips touched the rim of his sake cup, Mizuki would've gladly gone bankrupt paying for a party if it was for Sei. This huge house they were in right now was proof of that; picture frames of the couple's shared life littering the walls and every flat surface sans the floor.
So, instead of a big party with a big cake, famous photographers and hundreds of strangers in crisp suits and long dresses... Mizuki and Sei settled for a small gathering in their living room, counting with only the wedding ceremony's few guests. Seragaki Tae, Haruka and Nine decided to forgo the little celebration, but it was still quite rowdy; Koujaku and Mizuki exchanged little stories from their growing up together, and Mizuki's teammates tackled them with their own perspectives, dragging graceless guffaws from each other.
The one person that could mind it, though, was fast asleep, head lolling on Mizuki's shoulder. Mizuki had tried to stop Sei from sleeping so early, it'll mess up your sleep schedule you dummy, but his husband ultimately curled up along his side on the sofa and dozed off. Mizuki simply wrapped a supporting arm around his waist and kept on entertaining his guests with an easy smile.
Noiz didn't really have much to contribute, so he contented himself with watching the trading of quips and teasing over the coffee table. The sake didn't inebriate him but set pleasant, simmering warmth under his skin, enough that he quickly discarded his suit jacket and tie, undoing the top two buttons of his dress shirt. There was only one thing bothering him as his gaze floated towards the empty spot beside him, the grey zabuton gone cold but still rumpled under the weight that was there before.
Where the heck was Aoba?
To think Aoba had told his father that he would keep these delinquents in line, and now he was gone. It had been almost twenty minutes since Noiz had returned from the bathroom and Mizuki told him Aoba had left for a moment, waving him off dismissively when Noiz asked where he went.
After sending all the wedding pictures Theo demanded from him (I may not be able to take the time off to attend it but you'll be my eyes at their wedding, Wim!), Noiz got up from the floor with a grunt, slipping the phone back into his pants' pocket.
"I'm gonna look for Aoba," he let Mizuki know, not waiting for any vocal response since his friend was busy sneering and playfully kicking Koujaku's shoulder.
The raucous laughter and banter ebbed away as Noiz stepped away from the living room. As he roamed around the house, he thought of where Aoba could be, and came up with nothing; the house was spacious but didn't exactly count with many rooms. Having found the kitchen and bathroom empty, he had to move to the less likely places. He wasn't surprised to find the dark storage room uninhabited, as well as Mizuki and Sei's bedroom.
The last room was a place he hadn't, in fact, visited before. Noiz slid the door open with his shoulders set stiffly, worrying he was snooping around too much and invading Sei's privacy. Noiz didn't worry or care for Mizuki's privacy, obviously.
The first thing he noticed was the array of colorful canvases spread around the room, some propped up on easels while others were leaning against the walls. Noiz remembered vaguely that Aoba told him about Sei's sudden interest in art, but Noiz never imagined it was something to this scale.
Splotches of bright neon colors and thick dark lines might've momentarily distracted Noiz from the next obvious thing in the room, but it didn't take long for Noiz's gaze to fall upon the open doors on the other side of the room, displaying the dimly lit lawn and trees' roots.
That, and Aoba's back as he sat with his legs folded on the edge of the outer corridor.
With his eyes narrowed, Noiz closed the door behind him silently, padding towards the lonely figure staring out at the yard.
"Aoba."
The other man flinched at the sound of his voice. But what made Noiz raise an eyebrow was the sputter of repressed laughter that followed. Before he could call out to him again, however, Aoba twisted around to look at him.
Almost at the same time Noiz registered the flushed cheeks and wobbly grin pulled across Aoba's features, his green eyes zeroed in on the bottle of sake between his boyfriend's legs, pale thighs peeking through the opening of his blue yukata.
"Noiz~" Aoba greeted with a syrupy lilt to his voice, visibly swaying in place. Noiz startled out of his leering and blinked down at Aoba, momentarily torn between grimacing and snorting.
"Are you drunk?"
Aoba sputtered with maybe a bit too much spit involved.
"No! I'm okay! I can't feel my toes, though!"
Noiz couldn't hold back a breathy laugh. He plopped down beside Aoba, feelings his hazy eyes boring into his profile. As Noiz let his legs dangle over the edge, the grass blades tickled at the tips of his toes through his socks, moist with dew.
Outside, in the shadows of the room's artificial lighting, they were bathed in soft moonlight. The sky was clear and cloudless, the spring chill falling over them like a veil. Against the deep blue undertones, strokes of silver illuminated Aoba's glassy eyes, the gentle line of his nose and cheekbones as he continued to look at Noiz with fawning eyes.
"What is it?" Noiz asked, smiling crookedly.
Aoba blinked, body shaking momentarily with a silent hiccup. Then, his brows upturned minutely and his hazel eyes flashed with something—something that Noiz quickly realized with a shock that was tears, welling up fast and drip dropping down Aoba's pink cheeks.
Noiz opened his mouth uselessly. Even if he had any words, Aoba would have easily—and literally—blown them away as he slapped his hands on each side of Noiz's face and stumbled through his next sentence.
"W-why... are you so pretty, you bastard?"
Aoba was glaring at him as Noiz simply stared, lips gaping dumbly like a fish's. Their long silence was broken by a hiccup from Aoba, which seemed to fling him into another rampage.
"Y-you're so freakin' pretty with your crazy green eyes and s-soft hair, it's so—hic!—so hard on me, you know? Do you know how many times I took out—hic!—crumpled papers with kiss marks and phone numbers from your s-suit pockets on laundry day? You don't even realize they're there, do you!"
"I do know they're there," Noiz grumbled, eyebrows twisted in a frown. "I just don't care."
"Then care!" Aoba cried, squeezing Noiz's face harder between his splayed hands. Noiz winced slightly. "I get s-so angry when I see those numbers with hopeful women's names I'm just ughhh, I know you can't wear the ring at the office and—hic!—it's not a wedding ring anyway, and even if we got—hic!—married, it'd be bad if people knew but if people doesn't know, then they think they have a chance with you and I'm just... ughhhh!"
Noiz grinned—as much as he could with his lips smooshed between his cheeks. Deep down, but not as deep as it probably should be, he was happy that Aoba was actually capable of this much possessiveness. Aoba never showed this side of him, at least not while sober. It filled him with faint satisfaction, but he also thought Aoba shouldn’t even think of these things.
"They don't have a chance anyway. You know that."
"I knooow," Aoba moaned stubbornly, and Noiz huffed out a laugh. "I just- I want everyone to know, like, yeah, this gorgeous guy is mine! I see him naked on a daily basis and we use the same shampoo!"
"God, Aoba," Noiz laughed and Aoba dropped his hands from his cheeks to his shoulders, dropping his head.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Aoba queried after a short moment of quietness.
"What is it?"
"I'm actually super drunk."
Noiz snorted.
"This sake is the best shit I've ever tasted and I've completely lost sense of how much I can drink before I'm fucking smashed," Aoba explained, looking up at Noiz under wet eyelashes. His sudden crying spell seemed to have gone away.
Noiz smoothed a hand over his back. "I know."
"Noiz... I love you."
There was something dangerously heart-wrenching about hearing these words amidst the slur of inebriation in Aoba's tongue. Noiz gulped.
"I love you too."
Aoba shifted closer, nuzzling his nose and his cheek against the line of Noiz's jaw, burrowing his face on his neck. Noiz distantly heard the sound of the sake bottle falling over the edge of the platform.
"You... smell really good," Aoba marveled with his breath puffing against Noiz's skin, made hotter with the buzz of alcohol in his veins.
Noiz shivered, trying to rein in the arousal raising the hairs on his arms and legs. That was the least appropriate situation for sex—even if he usually didn't care for that. It was hardly worth the very real possibility of Mizuki catching them in the act and making things weird for the next many months to come.
"Noiz... please, marry m..."
Wide-eyed, Noiz waited for the rest of the sentence. It didn't come as a surprise, however, when he heard and felt the light snoring on his neck. A small, soft smile bloomed in his face.
When Noiz returned to the living room, having carefully carried Aoba from Sei's studio, the room was almost completely vacated. The coffee table was still littered with empty cups and plates which earlier carried snacks. The guys from Dry Juice were nowhere to be seen, and even Mizuki and Sei weren't on the sofa anymore. Instead, Koujaku was sitting on one corner, contemplating the unlit cigarette between his fingers before raising his eyes to the newcomers.
Koujaku's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as Noiz walked up to the other corner of the sofa and sat there soundlessly, heaving Aoba onto his lap. His boyfriend curled up against his chest like a cat, still deep in slumber. His ponytail was almost completely undone, falling in haphazard strands over his face.
Noiz breathed.
"Something about you makes me want to commit extreme violence," Koujaku promptly said, lips curling in blatant distaste as he side-eyed Noiz.
"That's a lot of complicated words coming from you," Noiz retorted with an amused grin.
Koujaku sneered at him, but before he could get an insult in, Aoba was tightening his hand on Noiz's shirt, frowning.
"N-noo... I'm not... gonna wear a white dress, Noiz..."
Noiz blinked down at his boyfriend, and from Koujaku's "absolutely disgusted" expression, he had heard Aoba's words just as clearly.
"Oh, you two finally showed up!" Mizuki said with a chipper tone as he reentered the living room, having changed his yukata for sweats. Then, his gaze moved from Noiz and Aoba to Koujaku. A teasing grin slowly stretched across his face.
"Third-wheelin' it like a champ, I see."
Koujaku simply flipped him the bird and Mizuki laughed heartily.
"Will you two sleep over?" He asked, turning his eyes back to Noiz. "We don't have a guest room but I can get out the futons for you. You can use Sei's studio, there's enough space there."
Noiz thought it over for a moment. He'd prefer sleeping on a regular bed any given day, but it was a bit too late already to bother Tae-san. He nodded in agreement.
"Alright then, I'll fix you guys up," Mizuki said with a bright smile.
"And I'm leaving," Koujaku announced, sentence arcing into a yawn that he quickly muffled with a hand. "Day starts early tomorrow. Again, congratulations on your marriage, Mizuki."
They exchanged a quick hug, slapping each other's back for good measure before parting. Then, Koujaku turned a glare towards Noiz.
"And I don't accept you yet. Aoba is too good for you."
"That is true," Noiz acquiesced coolly. Koujaku merely squinted at him even more threateningly and left the living room. When the front door clicked shut, Mizuki sighed.
"Don't mind this guy. He's just too protective; Aoba's been like a little brother to him since forever."
"I thought he was pissed off because he actually has a thing for Aoba."
Mizuki snorted. "As far as I know, he's straight as a ruler, but," he shrugged. "Who knows? Aoba had his fair share of admirers growing up. Koujaku's always been there, so maybe I just didn't notice. I don't think it's like that, though. I mean, imagine protecting something your whole life, and then this something sleeps with this guy you hate?"
"Oh, so you finally accept he hates me?" Noiz asked, a brow cocked up.
Mizuki shrugged again. "I haven't given up on hope completely. If you guys can't bond over your protective instincts for Aoba, then I guess nothing else can bring you together. Just try jumping in front of a bullet for Aoba or something; that would probably touch Koujaku."
"Don't tempt me," Noiz said under his breath, prompting a laugh from Mizuki. The redhead turned on his heel and disappeared around the corner, humming under his breath as he went after the guest futons.
Noiz looked up at the ceiling, wrapping his arms a little bit tighter around Aoba's frame. He glanced at the silver-colored ring on his finger, which had been there for so long already that he barely ever thought of it. The weight of it on his finger was simply part of his body; the temperature was the same as his skin. It was so integral to his person that more than once he only remembered to take it off when he was in his car, in front of his office.
Aoba grumbled something unintelligible under his breath and Noiz fondly looked down at his peaceful expression.
All of Aoba's worries and anxieties... they could talk about that tomorrow. If Aoba didn't deny every word, that is. And then, maybe they could talk about marriage.
Noiz's fingertip trailed easily over the ring on Aoba's finger, twin to his own. It was but a slight bump, like the raised skin of a scar long healed. The same temperature, a part of his body.
Leaning his head on the back of the sofa, Noiz played with the idea of not removing his ring before heading to work on Monday.