Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The ranch was unusually quiet that morning.

The kind of quiet that came when something important was missing — not really empty, just softer. The usual laughter, the small chaos that followed Taki around like sunlight, wasn’t there to fill the corners of the house. The stillness had settled deep into the walls.

In the kitchen, Yuma stood at the counter, rolling dough with mechanical precision. What was a passion for Taki, it was a task for him. Flour dusted his hands, his apron, the tip of his nose. Beside him, Fuma leaned against the sink, sipping coffee that had long gone cold.

Yuma broke the silence first. “Did Kaito say when they’re getting back?”

Fuma shook his head, stretching a little. “No. He said maybe tonight or tomorrow morning at the latest.” He paused, looking at Yuma’s concentrated frown. “Why? Miss them?”

Yuma’s rolling pin stopped mid-press. “No.”

Fuma smiled behind the rim of his mug. “You’re so obvious. Just admit it.”

“I don’t,” Yuma said again, his voice flat but his expression giving him away completely. “We make this trip to the Park ranch every month. I’m used to it.”

Fuma raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Yeah, maybe. But it’s the first time Taki’s been away since we met him. It’s okay to miss him, you know.”

Yuma sighed, pushing the dough aside and wiping his hands on his apron. “I know,” he admitted quietly. “I just… want him to be safe. Anything can happen to him out there.”

Fuma’s gaze softened. “I get it. But Maki’s with him. He’s safe.”

Yuma snorted, crossing his arms. “Yeah, sure. You should maybe tell that to your boyfriend.”

Fuma frowned. “What?” Yuma tilted his head toward the window. 

Fuma followed his gaze. Through the kitchen window, the morning sun caught on the rhythmic swing of an axe. Outside, K stood by the woodpile, his shirt clinging to his shoulders, his expression thunderous. Each swing landed with sharp, deliberate precision, as if he was trying not to think about something, and maybe the thoughts would go away if he hit hard enough. Fuma groaned softly. “He’s going to split the planet in half at this rate.”

Yuma laughed under his breath, leaning against the counter. “Told you. Everyone’s been in a shitty mood since Taki left. Especially your boyfriend.”

“Not my boyfriend,” Fuma muttered automatically, though his eyes lingered a little too long on the window. He set his mug down and straightened. “Still, I should probably stop him before he decapitates someone.”

Yuma’s smile widened. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Fuma grabbed his jacket and headed toward the door, muttering something under his breath about emotionally constipated idiots and their axes.

The door creaked open, letting in the crisp morning air. Yuma stayed by the window, watching him cross the yard toward K, whose swings never faltered.

From inside, the counters felt too big. The kitchen too quiet. The flour sat untouched for a moment, the dough half-rolled, the smell of bread hanging faintly in the air.

Yuma’s gaze drifted to the far end of the kitchen — to the sunny spot by the door where Taki usually sits with Raphael, peeling vegetables, humming songs no one knew. The space looked strangely empty now. He exhaled softly, dusting his hands again. “Come on Sunshine,” he murmured under his breath, “hurry home.”

Outside, the sound of the axe finally stopped. The wind picked up, brushing through the trees. Somewhere beyond the fields, a distant hum of an engine could already be heard, faint but growing.

—

Outside, the air was crisp, carrying the smell of pine and hay and faint smoke from the morning fires. The ranch was alive, but quieter than usual.

Fuma crossed the porch, squinting toward the fields. The animals had felt it too — the stillness, the gap in the routine. The dogs lounged near the barn, tails barely thumping when they noticed him. The chickens wandered aimlessly, pecking without enthusiasm. Even the air felt subdued.

His eyes found Solace near the far fence line. The horse paced restlessly, hooves digging grooves into the dirt as he walked back and forth, back and forth, ears twitching toward every sound that echoed across the fields. He looked uneasy, his muscles taut with tension.

Fuma sighed softly. They were not this miserable before Taki, right?

He kept walking, his boots crunching softly against the gravel. In the distance, K was by the woodpile — his entire focus narrowed to the rhythmic, punishing repetition of the axe. Each swing landed hard, deliberate, the sound echoing sharp through the open air.

“K,” Fuma called, voice steady. K didn’t look up. The axe rose again, fell again, splitting through the next log cleanly. “K,” Fuma tried again, louder this time. Nothing. Another swing. Another crack. “K!”

The next swing stopped mid-motion. K turned, breath heavy, sweat clinging to his temples. His hair stuck to his forehead, and his jaw was tight. “What?!”

Fuma exhaled, slow but patient. “You need to stop.”

K frowned, shoulders squared. “Why? I’m just cutting wood, I’m not harming anyone.” He turned back toward the woodpile, adjusting his grip on the axe.

Before he could lift it again, Fuma crossed the distance between them and caught his arm, firm but not rough, turning him back around. “You’re hurting yourself,” Fuma said quietly.

K’s gaze flickered, unreadable. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” Fuma’s voice softened, but the words stayed steady. “You can’t keep doing this, K. He’s fine. Taki’s fine. Maki wouldn’t let anything happen to him. You know that.”

Something in K’s expression cracked, not enough to break, but enough to show the strain underneath. His voice came quieter this time, rough around the edges. “You don’t understand, Fuma. The last time I let him out of my sight, I lost him for seven years.”

The confession hung heavy in the morning air, cutting sharper than the axe ever could.

Fuma inhaled slowly, stepping closer. He reached for the handle in K’s grip and gently eased it free. K didn’t resist — just let it go. The axe hit the ground with a soft thud, dust curling up around their feet.

Fuma set it aside, then placed both hands on K’s arms, his thumbs tracing slow, grounding motions up and down. The tension in K’s muscles was like coiled wire beneath his touch — all strength and fear and restraint bound together.

Fuma’s thumbs kept moving slowly over his arms, grounding, steady. “Hey,” he said, voice low but firm. “He’s coming back. No one is taking him. I promise.”

K let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “You can’t promise that.”

Fuma didn’t hesitate. “I can promise that there’s no one on this ranch who wouldn’t kill for Taki.” His grip tightened just slightly — not forceful, but certain. “No one is taking him from us without a fight.”

K stilled. His eyes lifted to Fuma’s, something quieter settling beneath the storm. He studied him for a long moment, like he was trying to understand something deeper than the words themselves. “You love him,” K said finally.

Fuma shrugged, like it was nothing, like it was obvious. “Kid’s like a ray of sunshine,” he said. “It’s difficult not to.”

K’s gaze didn’t waver. “You don’t love easily.”

That made Fuma pause. Just for a second — but it was enough. Enough for the air between them to shift, for something older and heavier to rise to the surface. His hands slowed against K’s arms. “…He’s part of you,” Fuma said quietly after a moment. “Makes it easier.”

K’s expression faltered — not breaking, but softening in that rare, unguarded way he never let anyone see for long.

They looked at each other.

And for a moment, everything else fell away — the ranch, the worry, the noise of the world — leaving only the weight of years between them. The things they never said. The things they never would. K exhaled, long and tired. “You bastard,” he muttered. “Why can’t you talk like this all the time?”

The shift was immediate.

Fuma tensed, the warmth draining from his posture as quickly as it had come. His hands dropped from K’s arms, and he took a small step back, putting space where there hadn’t been any. “K…” he started.

K sighed again, already looking away, already closing himself off. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

The moment snapped. Folded. Tucked away and ignored, right where it belonged.

Fuma opened his mouth, like he might try to say something else, something that mattered, something that would make a difference, but before he could, the low rumble of an engine cut through the air.

Both of them turned instinctively. Down the dirt road leading to the ranch, a truck came into view, sunlight catching against the windshield.

For a split second, everything went still.

Then—

“They’re back!!!!” Yuma’s voice tore through the quiet as he burst out of the house, already halfway across the yard, waving his arms like he couldn’t contain it.

K didn’t think. He didn’t even hesitate, as the tension in his body completely vanished and whatever had been weighing him down disappeared in an instant as he took off running toward the front of the house, boots kicking up dust behind him.

Fuma stayed where he was.

He watched him go — the tension, the urgency, the relief written in every step — and something quiet settled in his chest.

Resigned. Familiar.

Then he exhaled, slow, and followed.

—

The truck barely had time to roll to a proper stop.

Gravel crunched under the tires, dust rising in soft clouds around it, but K was already there. Already at the passenger side, already reaching, already there before logic could catch up with him.

The door flew open.

And there he was.

Taki.

Alive, whole, smiling—sunlight caught in his hair, eyes bright in that way that always made everything else feel secondary.

K exhaled like he had been holding his breath for days. He felt like he had.

“K!!” Taki didn’t hesitate. He launched himself forward, arms wrapping tight around him, and K caught him instantly, pulling him close, grounding himself in the weight of him, the warmth, the realness. His little brother back in his arms.

His grip tightened, almost desperate. He buried his face briefly in Taki’s hair, inhaling, like he needed proof, needed to feel that he was here, that he hadn’t disappeared again, that this wasn’t something fragile that could slip through his fingers.

He’s here. He’s here.

He wasn’t letting him go again. Not like before. Not ever again.

“Hey!” Yuma’s voice cut through the moment, loud and dramatic as ever. “Don’t hog him for yourself! I need Taki hugs. I feel like I’ve withered like a flower without the sun.” Taki giggled against K’s shoulder, the sound light and warm and so him.

From the other side of the truck, Maki’s voice chimed in, amused. “You’re more like a cactus.”

K let out a quiet breath, the tension easing just slightly. He pressed one last kiss to the top of Taki’s head before finally, reluctantly, loosening his hold.

That was all the opening Yuma needed. He shoved K aside without ceremony and pulled Taki into his own arms, lifting him clean off the ground in one smooth motion.

Taki laughed, startled but delighted. “Aww, you missed me.”

Yuma scoffed, trying, and failing, to sound unaffected. “Nah. Just missed your food. And having someone shorter than me around.”

Taki immediately protested, wriggling in his hold. “We are literally the same height!”

Yuma didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze flicked over Taki’s shoulder, eyes meeting K’s. The air shifted again, quieter this time. A look passed between them, brief, sharp, full of something deeper than either of them would ever say out loud.

Yeah.

They had missed him. More than they would admit. More than they knew how to explain.

Yuma set Taki back down, but kept a hand on his shoulder for a second longer than necessary, like he needed that extra moment of contact.

Around them, the ranch seemed to breathe again. The dogs barked somewhere near the barn, the horses shifted in their stalls, the quiet dullness from earlier lifting like it had never been there.

Then—

“No hugs for me?” Maki’s voice came from the front of the truck as he rounded it, a hand pushing his hair back, a grin already forming. “I feel so unloved.”

K snorted, stepping forward and shoving his shoulder lightly, not hard, just enough to be playful and affectionate. “You’ll survive.” But there was a smile there now. Real. “How was the trip?”

Maki’s grin softened, something quieter settling in his expression. “Amazing,” he said. “It flew by.” His eyes flicked toward Taki. “Taki’s the best trip companion.”

Taki looked back at him instantly.

And for a second, the world narrowed, just them, just that shared look, something soft and new and quietly undeniable passing between them.

A smile spread across both their faces at the same time.

Approaching the group was Fuma, he didn’t rush, he never did.

While the others moved in bursts—running, grabbing, laughing too loud—he crossed the yard at his usual steady pace, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, eyes quietly taking everything in. The truck. The dust still settling in the air. The way the entire atmosphere of the ranch had shifted in seconds.

He spoke quietly, “Hey guys, welcome ba–,”. He didn’t even get the word fully out before Taki was already moving. The boy crossed the space between them in a heartbeat and threw himself into Fuma’s arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Fuma froze.

Just for a second. Taki had been with them for a few months already, but he still hadn’t realized no one hugged Fuma; no one really touched Fuma unless he touched them first.

His body went still, arms hovering awkwardly at his sides, like he hadn’t quite caught up to what was happening yet. His eyes flicked instinctively toward the others—

Yuma snorted.

K had that small, resigned smile again, like he’d expected nothing less.

Fuma exhaled quietly. Then his arms came up, wrapping around Taki, pulling him in properly this time—firm, grounding, steady.

Taki melted into the hug without hesitation. “Fuma,” he said, voice bright and warm, like he hadn’t been gone at all, like he hadn’t left a quiet hole in the entire ranch. “Next time you have to come with us. We stopped at this place for lunch on the way back and they had the best roasted potatoes ever. You would love them.”

Fuma’s lips curved softly, something almost fond slipping through his usual composure. He ignored K’s soft protest of ‘hey you just got back’ and said “I’m sure you can make them better.”

Taki pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes lighting up instantly. “You bet I can!!!” he said, already bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I asked for the recipe. I’ll ask dad to take me to town so I can buy the ingredients.” He was already thinking ahead, already planning, already filling the space he’d left behind like he’d never been gone. Then he blinked, looking around. “Speaking of… where’s dad?”

K answered from beside them, arms crossed loosely now that the edge had left him. “In town. He thought you’d be back tonight, so he went to run errands.”

Yuma jumped in before Taki could respond. “Yeah, why are you here so early?”

Taki grinned, glancing briefly toward Maki without even realizing he was doing it. “We pulled an all-nighter. Maki drove through the night, we just really wanted to get home.”

That made K’s expression tighten just slightly. His eyes shifted to Maki, sharp, protective instinct kicking back in. “That’s dangerous. What if you had gotten sleepy?”

Maki didn’t flinch. “We stopped for naps,” he said calmly. “And Taki made sure I stayed awake enough to drive.” There was a hint of a smile there—small, private. His voice dropped, barely a whisper only meant for K.  “You know I’m not that reckless. Not with him.”

K didn’t look entirely convinced. But he nodded anyway.

Because Taki was standing right there. Because he was safe. Because that was enough and all he cared about.

Taki, oblivious to the silent tension that still lingered beneath the surface, turned in a slow circle like he was taking inventory of everyone. “Where are EJ and Nicholas?”

“Should be in the barn,” Yuma answered immediately. Then he jerked his chin toward the fields. “Go get them. We’ll start unloading the truck before Maki collapses and refuses to help.”

“Hey—” Maki started, but there was no real bite to it.

Taki nodded eagerly, already stepping backward, energy spilling out of him like sunlight. “Okay!”

He turned on his heel without another word and took off toward the barn, practically bouncing with every step.

For a moment, everyone just watched him go.

The way he ran. The way he filled the space. The way the ranch—quiet and dull just minutes ago—now felt alive again.

Then Yuma clapped his hands once. “Alright. Let’s get to work before he comes back and starts micromanaging everything.”

K huffed out something that might’ve been a laugh.

Fuma said nothing. He just watched Taki disappear into the distance for one second longer than necessary… 

Then turned back to the truck, tension he hadn’t known was there finally leaving his body .

Taki didn’t slow down once he left the yard.

The moment his boots hit the dirt path leading toward the barn, something inside him lifted—like a weight he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying had finally slipped off his shoulders.

Home.

It felt different under his feet now, even though nothing had changed. The same worn paths, the same fences, the same distant sounds of animals shifting and calling, but it all felt brighter, sharper. Like the colors had come back.

He practically skipped across the yard.

His mind raced ahead of him, jumping from one thing to the next. First the barn, hugging EJ and Nicholas. Then Solace. He had to see Solace, he was so excited to tell him about the landscapes he saw on the trip. And after that, obviously Lady Moo, the dogs, the chickens, everyone. It had just been a couple of days, but he’d missed them all more than he’d realized, and now the feeling was spilling out of him faster than he could contain it.

And EJ—

Taki’s smile widened.

He couldn’t wait to tell him. About the trip. About the night. About Maki. About the conversation with Maki. About the way everything had shifted into something soft and real and terrifying and good.

EJ was going to be so proud of him. The thought alone made warmth bloom in his chest.

By the time he reached the barn, he was practically glowing. The large wooden doors stood slightly ajar, a thin strip of shadow cutting across the ground. The familiar scent of hay and animals drifted out to meet him.

Taki slowed.

A small, mischievous grin spread across his face, feeling like a little kid.

Oh.

Oh, this was perfect.

He stepped closer, quieter now, carefully placing each foot so the gravel wouldn’t crunch beneath him. His heartbeat picked up from excitement. He pressed his back lightly to the edge of the door, peeking through the gap. He couldn’t see much. Just movement. Shapes.

Good. Even better.

Taki inhaled slowly, bracing himself….. and then he pushed the door open and jumped inside. “BOO!”

The reaction was immediate.

EJ jerked back. Nicholas moved just as fast. The sudden motion sent a ripple through the quiet of the barn, hay shifting, a startled horse snorting softly from its stall.

But no one was more shocked than Taki.

Because they hadn’t just been standing there.

They’d been—

They’d been kissing.

Taki froze.

His brain stalled completely, like it couldn’t process what his eyes had just seen. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. Just a small, startled squeak. “Oh my god—” Heat flooded his face instantly, spreading from his cheeks down his neck. He looked away so fast it almost made him dizzy. “Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t see anything, I swear, I didn’t see anything—”

“Taki—” EJ’s voice cut in, urgent but gentle.

But Taki wasn’t listening. He couldn’t. His thoughts were racing too fast, tangling over each other, panic blooming in his chest like a storm. He backed away, nearly tripping over his own feet. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

“Taki, wait—” But he was already turning, already moving.

Because he couldn’t stay. He felt so bad, he couldn’t believe he had interrupted something so important. Nicholas had been waiting for so long and he just… oh my god.

He bolted out of the barn, the door swinging wide behind him.

The sunlight hit him hard, grounding him just enough to keep running. Not toward the house—not toward the truck. If he went back there, they’d see him, they’d ask questions, they’d know.

And he couldn’t do that.

He wouldn’t do that to EJ and Nicholas.

So he ran toward the fields instead.

Toward somewhere safe. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere he could breathe.

By the time he reached the big tree at the edge of the pasture, his chest was heaving. The world felt too loud, too bright, too fast.

Lady Moo was there, exactly where she always was—resting in the shade, her large body tucked comfortably against the earth. She lifted her head the moment she saw him. “Moo—” The sound was loud, familiar, grounding, and welcoming.

Taki stumbled the last few steps toward her, dropping down beside her with a breathless, overwhelmed laugh. He pressed a hand gently against her side, grounding himself in the steady warmth of her.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he said, voice still a little shaky. Lady Moo huffed softly, nudging her head closer like she always did. Taki let out a long breath, dropping his forehead briefly against her shoulder. “I think I just fucked up badly,” he muttered. “Oh my god…”

The wind moved softly through the field, rustling the grass around them.

And for a moment, with Lady Moo warm and steady beside him, the panic began to settle—just a little.

Taki barely had time to steady his breathing before he heard it—

Footsteps.

Fast and urgent footsteps approaching him. He stiffened instantly, his hand still resting against Lady Moo’s side. His heart, which had just started to settle, shot right back up into his throat.

He turned just as EJ came into view, breath slightly uneven, hair a little out of place like he’d run the whole way from the barn.

“Taki—”

“I’m so sorry!” The words burst out of him before EJ could even take another step closer. Taki scrambled on his knees, hands moving nervously in front of him like he didn’t know where to put them, his thoughts spilling out faster than he could catch them. “I didn’t want to interrupt—I swear, I didn’t know—I just thought it would be funny and then—”

His voice pitched higher, faster, panic threading through every word. “I know Nicholas has been waiting, and now you had your first kiss together and I interrupted such an important moment and I’m so sorry— I won’t tell anyone, I promise, I swear I won’t say anything—”

“Taki.”

But he didn’t stop. “I didn’t see anything—well I did, but not really—I mean—”

“Taki.”

“I just—”

“Taki, for fuck’s sake—breathe.” The words hit him like a wall. Taki froze completely. Because EJ didn’t swear.

Like, ever.

The sudden sharpness in his voice cut clean through the panic, grounding him in a way nothing else had. Taki blinked at him, wide-eyed, his breathing still uneven, his chest rising and falling too fast.

EJ stepped forward and dropped to his knees in front of him without hesitation, hands coming up to grasp Taki’s shoulders, firm, steady, anchoring him in place. “Hey,” EJ said again, softer now, his voice back to that familiar calm. “Look at me.”

Taki did. Those big, watery eyes locked onto his, confusion and guilt and embarrassment all tangled together.

“Baby,” EJ murmured gently, his thumbs brushing lightly against Taki’s arms. “You did nothing wrong.”

“But I did—”

“No,” EJ cut in, not harsh, but certain. “You didn’t.” Taki’s lips parted, ready to argue again, but the steadiness in EJ’s gaze made the words falter. “Taki,” EJ continued, quieter now, “that was not our first kiss.”

That stopped him completely.

Taki blinked. “…It wasn’t?” He looked at EJ like he’d just spoken another language.

EJ exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “It wasn’t,” he repeated.

“But—” Taki shook his head, trying to piece it together. “But Nicholas said he was waiting for you.”

A soft laugh slipped out of EJ then, small, fond, a little tired. “Yeah,” he said. “Waiting for me to be ready. Not to kiss me.”

Taki stared at him. “…Ready for what?”

EJ hesitated this time. Not long. Just enough for the weight of the question to settle between them. “To be comfortable with the idea of dating him,” he said finally.

Taki’s confusion deepened, his brows pulling together as he tried to make sense of it. “But… he likes you,” he said slowly. “And you like him. And you kiss.”

EJ sighed. And for a moment, the air between them shifted again—quieter, heavier, like they were standing right on the edge of something deeper that hadn’t been said out loud yet.

EJ didn’t rush into it. After a moment, he gently guided Taki back down to the grass, settling beside him under the wide shade of the tree. Lady Moo shifted slightly, adjusting her weight as if making space for them, her steady presence grounding the moment in something warm and familiar.

Taki followed without resistance. Because he could feel it, the shift. The quiet gravity settling over EJ’s shoulders, the way his usual calm had turned inward, like he was bracing himself.

So Taki did the only thing that felt right at the moment, he reached for EJ’s hand. Their fingers intertwined, and Taki gave a small, reassuring squeeze.

EJ looked at their joined hands for a second, then up at Taki, a soft smile touched his lips. “I do like him,” EJ said quietly. “And I know he likes me.” He paused. “But I’m not comfortable with my sexuality, Taki.”

The words didn’t come out rushed. They didn’t shake. But there was weight in them, years of it. Taki didn’t interrupt, he just nodded once, gently, his thumb brushing over EJ’s knuckles in a silent I’m here. Just like you’re always here for me.

EJ looked out toward the field, eyes distant now, not unfocused, just… somewhere else. Somewhere older. “I grew up in the town next to ours,” he began. “My parents were…” He let out a quiet breath. “Demanding doesn’t even begin to cover it.” His voice stayed even, but there was something tight beneath it. “They wanted everything perfect. Perfect grades, perfect posture, perfect behavior. Perfect friends.” A faint, humorless smile flickered. “Perfect girlfriend.”

Taki’s chest tightened. EJ’s gaze didn’t waver from the horizon.

“If I was even a fraction less than what they expected…” he continued, “they’d take things away. Privileges, they called them.” He paused.

Then, quieter—

“Sometimes that meant food. Sometimes it meant my bed.”

Taki’s grip tightened around his hand without thinking.

EJ noticed. He squeezed back, gently—like he was reassuring him now.

“They were very religious,” EJ went on. “Everything in our house revolved around it. Rules. Discipline. Purity.” The word lingered in the air, heavy and sharp. “They found out when I was sixteen.” Taki’s breath caught slightly. “I was… careless and I was stupidly smitten with this guy from Sunday study.,” EJ said, though there was no real blame in his tone. Just fact. “After church. I thought no one would see.” He let out a slow exhale. “They did.”

Silence stretched for a moment. The wind moved through the grass, soft and steady.

“They didn’t yell at first,” EJ continued. “Although I think that would’ve made it easier.”

Taki glanced at him, eyes soft, heart already aching for him.

“They prayed,” EJ said. “A lot. They said I was sick. That the devil had taken hold of me.” Ej’s breath hitched. “My dad beat me up a couple of times with the Bible, I think he truly believed he could beat the sickness out of me.” He snorted sarcastically, “There’s no hate like christian love right?”

Ej suddenly looked up at Taki’s wounded noise, like he had just remembered where he was, he smiled sadly trying to comfort Taki. “They sent me away.”

Taki swallowed. “Away… where?”

EJ’s lips pressed together briefly. “A conversion camp.” The words landed like a ton of bricks. “They said it would fix me. That once I was normal again I would be able to come back home.”

Taki’s hand tightened again.

EJ didn’t look at him. “They tried to force it out of me,” he said, voice still calm, but thinner now. “Prayers. Isolation. Punishments. They called it treatment.” He inhaled slowly, steadying himself. “They tried to perform an exorcism on me at one point.”

Taki’s eyes widened, horror flickering across his face.

EJ glanced at him then, just briefly, like he didn’t want to linger on that reaction. “I tried to leave,” he said simply. His voice didn’t rise. Didn’t break. “I didn’t get far. But I…” He hesitated for the first time. “…I was terrified, so I fought back, broke a priest's nose and knocked out another. ”

Taki didn’t need more detail than that.

EJ exhaled, looking down at their hands. “They sent me back home after that,” he continued. “My parents didn’t even try to pretend anymore.”

There was a pause.

Then—

“They called the police.”

Taki’s stomach dropped. “What?”

EJ nodded once. “Said I was violent. Unstable.” The words came out flat. Like they didn’t belong to him. “I was out in a few days,” he added. “But…” He let out a small breath. “I didn’t have anywhere to go.”

Taki’s eyes were glassy now, his chest tight with something overwhelming and painful and angry.

“So I left,” EJ said. “Took what little money I had. Got on a bus. Came here.” He gestured vaguely toward the land around them. “I didn’t know anyone. Didn’t have a plan.” Another pause. “I was hungry,” he admitted. “So I stole food.”

Taki’s thumb brushed over his hand again, slow and gentle.

“I got caught,” EJ finished. “Brandt was on my case, he pulled up my record, saw that I was trouble and decided to keep me there for a couple of days, just to make a point.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The wind moved softly through the field. Lady Moo shifted beside them, letting out a quiet breath.

“And then…” Taki said softly. “Dad found you.”

EJ’s expression softened, just slightly. “Yeah,” he said. There was something different in his voice now. Something warmer. Something filled with love “He did.”

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The weight of EJ’s words didn’t disappear, but it settled. Softened. Like the sharp edges had been wrapped in something warmer, something that didn’t hurt quite as much to hold anymore. 

The wind moved gently through the field, brushing against the tall grass, carrying the distant sounds of the ranch back to them—voices, footsteps, life continuing as it always did.

Taki squeezed EJ’s hand again. “You’re home now,” he said softly. “You’re loved and accepted here… you know that, right?”

EJ didn’t answer immediately.

He looked down at their hands, then out toward the horizon again. His expression had shifted—still thoughtful, still carrying the past, but lighter somehow. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know that.” He let out a small breath. “It’s just… really difficult to unlearn some things.” Taki nodded. He understood that more than he could fully explain. EJ’s lips curved into something softer, almost shy. “Nicho knows that,” he added. “He said he’d wait as long as he has to… for me to love myself as much as he does.”

Taki melted instantly. There was no other word for it. He made a small, emotional sound and leaned sideways, practically collapsing into EJ in a side hug, his arms wrapping around him without hesitation. “That’s so romantic,” he mumbled into his shoulder.

EJ let out a quiet laugh—soft, genuine, the kind that didn’t carry any weight behind it. His arms came up naturally, holding Taki back just as easily.

They stayed like that for a moment.

Then another.

Just breathing. Just existing in the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled.

Taki felt the steady rise and fall of EJ’s chest, the warmth of him grounded and real beside him, and something in his own chest settled too, like everything had clicked into place just a little more, a quiet understanding between the two of them.

After a while, Taki pulled back slightly, blinking as a thought hit him. “Wait,” he said slowly. “But… you were kissing though.”

EJ blinked once, then shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah. We do that sometimes.” Taki stared at him. “When the tension gets too much,” EJ added, completely serious.

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

Taki snorted. “Yeah, totally,” he said, nodding like that made perfect sense. “Sometimes the tension is so unbearable you just have to kiss a homie.”

EJ broke.

The laugh came out of him all at once, loud, unrestrained, completely unguarded. It caught him off guard just as much as it did Taki, his shoulders shaking as he tried and failed to hold it in.

Taki started laughing too, the sound bubbling out of him easily, bright and contagious. “Maybe you should give that advice to my brother,” Taki added between giggles. “He clearly needs it.”

That made EJ laugh even harder, doubling over slightly, one hand coming up to cover his face. “Oh my god, stop—”

Taki couldn’t stop either. He leaned back as the laughter took over, losing his balance completely until he fell onto the grass with a soft thud, his back landing against Lady Moo’s side.

The cow huffed in mild protest but didn’t move, shifting just enough to accommodate him like she always did. “Sorry,” Taki murmured instinctively, still laughing.

Without thinking, he reached up and grabbed EJ’s sleeve, tugging him down with him. EJ let himself be pulled, landing beside him with a soft grunt, still smiling.

Taki immediately curled closer, tucking himself against his side like it was second nature.

They both exhaled at the same time.

The laughter faded into something softer, lingering smiles, quiet breaths, the warmth of shared space.

Above them, the sky stretched wide and endless, sunlight filtering gently through the leaves of the tree. The grass whispered softly around them, and Lady Moo’s steady presence anchored everything in a calm, familiar rhythm.

For a moment, nothing else existed.

Just two boys holding each other.

—

They had been there for a few minutes in silence, not moving much, just existing in that quiet pocket of warmth, the kind that didn’t demand anything from them. The grass shifted softly beneath them, Lady Moo’s steady breathing rising and falling at Taki’s back, EJ’s arm resting loosely around him.

Time passed differently there. Slower. Kinder.

Taki stared up at the sky, following the lazy drift of a cloud, his thoughts moving just as slowly, until one of them settled a little heavier than the rest.

He hesitated. Then, “…Have you ever thought about going to therapy?” The words came out soft, almost careful, like he didn’t want to break the moment they were sitting in.

Beside him, EJ stilled, just a slight pause, a tightening that Taki felt more than saw.

For a second, he thought maybe he’d said the wrong thing.

But then EJ exhaled quietly, his body easing again. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I have.” His gaze stayed on the sky. “I’m just…” He let out a small breath. “Scared to go.”

Taki turned his head slightly, watching him now.

“I don’t want them to see everything that’s wrong with me,” EJ finished, voice quieter.

Taki made a small, immediate sound of protest, something soft and indignant all at once. “There is nothing wrong with you,” he said, almost instinctively.

EJ huffed a quiet laugh, but Taki shook his head, more insistent now.

“No, listen,” he said, pushing himself up slightly on one elbow so he could look at him properly. “Nothing is wrong with you.” His voice softened, but didn’t lose its certainty. “The adults in your life failed you,” Taki continued. “You were just a kid, and they made you carry things no one should have to carry. You didn’t become this way because something is wrong with you. You just survived and I’m really glad you did.”

EJ blinked at him.

Taki’s expression softened, a small, crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Are you a little fucked up?” he added, lighter now. “Yeah, probably. But that’s kind of a requirement to be part of this ranch at this point.”

That got a real laugh out of EJ.

Taki smiled, encouraged. “We’re all a little messed up,” he went on, shrugging. “Different flavors, same problem.”

EJ shook his head, still smiling faintly.

“But therapy isn’t about someone pointing at you and saying ‘this is what’s wrong,’” Taki added, more thoughtful now. “It’s about… understanding yourself better. Learning how to make things hurt less. Or at least make sense.” He hesitated for a second. “I don’t want to pressure you,” he said more quietly. “But maybe… you need someone outside of all this. Someone who isn’t part of us, you know? Just to help you sort through things.”

EJ didn’t answer right away.

So Taki nudged him lightly with his shoulder. “I could go with you,” he offered. “I mean… I need it too.”

That made EJ turn his head toward him. “Yeah?”

Taki nodded, a small but steady smile on his face. “Yeah.”

He reached for EJ’s hand again, squeezing it gently. “We can face our demons together,” he said, half joking, half serious. “I’ll fight yours, you fight mine.”

For a moment, EJ just looked at him. Really looked.

Like he was trying to understand how someone could say something like that so simply, like it wasn’t a big deal, like it was just natural to offer that kind of support.

Then something in his expression softened completely. He pulled Taki a little closer, his arm tightening around him in a quiet, grateful hug. “…I’d like that,” he said softly.

Taki smiled against his shoulder.

Above them, the sky stretched endlessly blue, the world calm and steady and safe.

They obviously didn’t stay there forever. Even though it felt like time had stopped for a while.

But, eventually, the world outside their little bubble started to creep back in, the distant sounds of voices, the clatter of movement near the house, the quiet reminder that life hadn’t paused just because they had.

EJ shifted slightly beside him. “We should probably head back,” he said gently. “They’re going to start wondering where we are.”

Taki hummed in agreement—

Then suddenly jolted upright. “Oh my god—Solace!” The realization hit him all at once, bright and urgent. “I have to go see him, let’s go!!”

Before EJ could even react, Taki was already scrambling to his feet, grabbing his hand and dragging him along with an energy that hadn’t dulled in the slightest. They crossed the field quickly, Taki practically pulling EJ behind him, his excitement bubbling over with every step.

The arena came into view—

And so did Solace.

The horse stood near the far side at first, head low, shifting restlessly. But the second Taki came into sight, everything changed.

Solace’s head snapped up.

A sharp, unmistakable sound broke from him, a loud, echoing neigh that carried across the arena. He started pacing immediately, hooves striking against the dirt with restless energy, like something inside him had finally been set loose.

Taki’s entire face lit up. “My sweet boy!” He broke into a run.

“Taki, Taki slow down,” EJ called after him, quickening his pace. “Be careful, he’s still unpredictable…”

But Taki didn’t hear him. Or maybe he did and chose not to care. Because Solace was already moving toward the fence, meeting him halfway, restless energy shifting into something else entirely.

Taki reached the railing, breathless, hands already reaching out. Solace pressed forward instantly. Taki’s fingers found his face, smoothing over the strong lines of his jaw, brushing through his mane with practiced familiarity.

The horse stilled. Completely. All that restless tension from before melted away under Taki’s touch, his head lowering just slightly as he leaned into him.

Relief.

It was almost human, the way it showed.

“I know,” Taki murmured softly, his voice dropping into something warm and soothing. “I know, I missed you too, my sweet boy.” Solace huffed, nudging into his hands like he was making sure he was real.

“Sweet boy he says,” a voice drawled from behind them. Nicholas appeared like he always did quiet and sudden. “He’s been a menace,” he added, stepping closer, arms crossed loosely. “Wouldn’t stop kicking the fence and pacing since you left.”

Taki turned his head, eyes narrowing just slightly, but the smile never left his face. “I would too,” he shot back easily, “if I had to look at your ugly face all day.”

Nicholas snorted, rolling his eyes, but stepped forward anyway. He reached out and ruffled Taki’s hair roughly, not even trying to be gentle. “Missed you too, sunshine,” he muttered.

Solace immediately snorted, tossing his head toward Nicholas like he took personal offense to his presence. Taki laughed. “He agrees with me.”

“Traitor,” Nicholas said flatly, though there was no real bite to it.

By then, EJ had caught up to them, coming to a stop beside Nicholas.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

They just watched.

Taki, pressed against the fence, completely absorbed in Solace. The way his hands moved without hesitation, the way his voice softened, the way the horse—wild, unpredictable, stubborn Solace—stood there like none of that applied when it came to him.

Like Taki was the exception to everything.

Nicholas nudged EJ lightly with his elbow. “You okay?” he asked, quieter this time.

EJ glanced at him.

Then back at Taki.

A small smile settled on his lips, soft, steady, real. “Yeah,” he said.

And for the first time, there was no hesitation behind it.

The three of them stayed like that for a while, Taki and Solace enjoying each other's company and Ej and Nicholas enjoying having Taki back. 

Solace stood close to the fence now, no longer pacing, his weight shifted forward, attention fixed entirely on Taki. The restless energy from earlier had softened into something almost eager, ears flicking toward every small movement of the boy’s hands.

Taki leaned into the railing, completely absorbed, murmuring under his breath as his fingers traced familiar lines along the horse’s jaw.

Nicholas and EJ lingered a few steps back, watching. Neither of them spoke and they didn’t really need to. There just was something about it, the way Solace responded, the way Taki moved without hesitation, that made noise feel unnecessary.

It didn’t take long before someone else appeared though and footsteps broke the stillness.

Maki didn’t rush when he approached the arena. He never really did, he always walked with that relaxed confidence of his. Maki’s boots crunched softly against the dirt path, hands relaxed, one loosely holding a small plastic bag, the other tucked into his jacket pocket.

All three of them turned.

“I figured you’d be here,” he said as he came to a stop beside them, voice easy, almost amused. His gaze flicked briefly between EJ and Nicholas before settling on Taki. “You were taking too long.”

Taki smiled immediately. “Hey you,” and then his eyes dropped to the bag. “What 's that?” 

Maki extended it toward him without ceremony. Taki peeked inside, saw the slices of apple inside and then looked back up like he’d just been handed something priceless. “You’re the best,” he said, already reaching in. 

Maki’s mouth curved, small and quiet. He didn’t answer that, instead, he dapped Nicholas up in greeting, quick and familiar, then gave EJ a brief nod. “Everything hold up while we were gone?”

“Barely,” Nicholas said dryly, arms crossing as he leaned back against the fence. His eyes followed Taki, who was now fully engaged in feeding Solace, breaking the apple pieces into smaller bits like it mattered, like the horse wasn’t three times his size “Place was too quiet without the usual troublemakers.”

EJ huffed a soft laugh beside him. “We managed,” he added. “Did a run along the east fence line. There’s a section that’s starting to rot through, Bear’s talking about replacing it before it becomes a problem.”

Maki nodded once, already half listening. Because his attention had drifted, like always, back to Taki.

He stepped closer, closing the small distance without thinking, and rested a hand lightly on Taki’s shoulder. The contact was casual, familiar in a way that hadn’t quite existed before the trip, but didn’t feel new anymore either. With his other hand, he steadied the bag, angling it so Taki wouldn’t have to fumble while feeding Solace.

The horse huffed sharply. Maki glanced at him. “Relax,” he muttered. “I’m not stealing your food.” Solace tossed his head, a low, warning sound rumbling out of him.

Nicholas snorted. “Pretty sure he thinks you’re stealing something else.”

Maki’s gaze flicked sideways. “What do you mean?”

“He’s been like this since Taki showed up,” Nicholas said, watching with quiet amusement. “Doesn’t like sharing.”

Maki considered that for a second, then he slowly and deliberately slid his arm around Taki’s shoulders. Solace reacted instantly. A sharp, offended neigh cut through the air, his head jerking up, ears pinned just slightly as he stepped closer to the fence. Maki raised an eyebrow. Then let out a quiet, breathy laugh. “Yeah buddy,” he said under his breath. “You’re going to have to get used to it.”

Taki twisted in his hold, half laughing, half scandalized, pushing at his chest. “Don’t start a fight with him,” he said, trying, and failing, to sound serious. “You would lose.” Maki didn’t move his arm though.

Before anything else could be said, an engine cut through the quiet.

All four of them stilled.

The sound came fast, louder than it should have been, gravel crunching somewhere beyond the trees.

Taki’s head snapped up. “—That’s dad!” He turned back to Solace quickly, pressing one last affectionate kiss to his face. “I’ll come back later, okay? More treats, I promise.”

Solace huffed like he had opinions on that. But Taki didn’t wait, he was already running towards the front of the house, across the field, boots kicking up dust, energy spilling out of him.

The others stayed where they were, watching him go.

Nicholas shook his head slightly. “Jesus. Who called him? He was supposed to be out for a couple hours.”

Maki shrugged, hands slipping into his pockets. “No idea.”

Beside him, EJ didn’t look away from Taki’s retreating figure. There was something thoughtful in his expression. Something observant. Then he turned his head slowly, his gaze settled on Maki, steady and assessing. “…Get used to it, huh?” he said after a moment, glancing sideways at Maki. “What does it actually entail?”

Maki held his gaze for a second. Then his mouth curved, something sharp, amused, just this side of evasive. “EJ,” he said, pushing himself off the fence, “you keep forgetting I dropped out of school way too early for that kind of vocabulary.” he looked so smug, “So,” Maki continued, already turning away, “since I have no clue what ‘entail’ actually means, I’m just going to ignore that question.”

Nicholas snorted under his breath.

Maki didn’t wait for a response. He just turned, already walking in the direction Taki had gone, hands in his pockets, that same quiet, infuriatingly easy grin still in place.

EJ watched him go.

Then glanced briefly at Nicholas.

Nicholas only shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah,” he said. “Good luck with that.”

—

Taki was running full speed towards the front of the house. By the time he reached it, the truck had barely come to a full stop, gravel still shifting under the tires. The engine cut, the door opened… and Taki was already there.

“Dad—” He didn’t finish the word, he just threw himself forward.

Kaito barely had time to step down before Taki collided with him, arms wrapping tight around his middle, momentum carrying both of them half a step back. For a split second, Kaito’s composure slipped, just enough to show in the way his arms came up immediately, strong and sure, pulling Taki in close.

“Hey—” The word came out softer than intended. He adjusted his grip, one hand settling at the back of Taki’s head, holding him there for a second longer than was strictly necessary. “Hi, baby.”

Taki laughed into his chest, breathless, warm, completely unbothered by the intensity of the moment. “Hi, Dad.”

Kaito exhaled slowly, the tension that had been sitting somewhere deep in his chest loosening without his permission. He pulled back just enough to look at him properly, quick, practiced scan, taking in everything at once.

No injuries. No shadows behind the eyes. Just… Taki.

Bright. Whole.

Good.

“You enjoy the trip?” he asked, voice steady again, like nothing had been wrong in the first place.

Taki lit up instantly. “Oh my god, yes—wait, they had the fluffiest cows I’ve ever seen, like actually fluffy, like clouds but with legs—”

Kaito didn’t interrupt, he just nodded, one hand resting lightly at Taki’s back as they moved toward the porch, guiding without thinking. “…Maki found this diner on the way there, and the milkshakes were insane, like I think they put actual magic in them, and—oh, and the oranges, we stopped in this grove and—”

They climbed the steps together, Taki still talking, words spilling over each other in his excitement, hands moving as if he needed them to keep up with his thoughts.

At the top of the porch, K leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely, watching the entire scene with something quietly amused in his expression. Kaito’s hand pressed lightly between his shoulder blades and all three of them stepped inside.

The house felt different immediately full again, the quiet from earlier replaced with movement, sound, life slipping back into its usual rhythm as if it had only been waiting for this exact moment.

Taki kept going. “…Raphael also had a lot of fun. He kept running after literally any animal we encountered…. he even tried to catch a butterfly.”

The door opened again behind them. Maki, EJ, and Nicholas stepped in, bringing with them the last traces of outside air and dust.

Taki turned on instinct. “Maki—” He pointed at him like he’d just remembered something vital. “Tell him about the cows. The fluffy ones Mr Park has in his ranch.”

Kaito’s eyebrow lifted slightly. He shifted his weight, then reached out, resting a hand briefly on Maki’s shoulder, a quiet acknowledgment, firm and deliberate.

Maki met his gaze for half a second. Then looked back at Taki. “Taki saw the cows,” he said simply, tone dry but not unkind, “and immediately asked why we didn’t have some.”

K let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh. “We live in the wrong climate for cloud livestock, baby.” Taki’s face fell into a small, dramatic pout.

Kaito glanced at him, something softer passing through his expression. “We can visit them,” he said. “Market days. There’s always some there.”

That was enough. Taki brightened instantly, the disappointment gone as quickly as it had come. “Deal.”

Kaito let the moment settle. Then his gaze shifted.

Slowly.

Toward the kitchen.

“…Would someone like to explain,” he said, voice calm in that way that usually meant he’d already noticed everything, “why there appear to be several tons of carrots on my counter?”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Maki laughed under his breath, pushing a hand through his hair. “Long story.” Kaito didn’t look away. Maki exhaled. “We stopped on the way and Taki bought berries. Decided to gift them to the Park ranch.” Nicholas snorted softly behind him. “And then,” Maki continued, “he went full FBI mode and helped them with something, confused everyone involved, and somehow we ended up getting paid in carrots.” 

K huffed out an actual laugh at that. Of course.

Taki looked between them, entirely unapologetic. “It was really nice of them,” he said, as if that explained everything. “And on the way back we stopped for lunch at this random town and Miss Anna showed me how to make hummus with them. It’s really good, I promise. I can make it for lunch—”

“We already ate something quick like 30 minutes ago,” Yuma’s voice cut in as he appeared in the doorway, arms folded, expression unimpressed but eyes giving him away. “But dinner? Definitely go for it.”

Taki nodded immediately, already shifting gears. “Okay, dinner. Perfect.”

Kaito watched the exchange for a moment, something unreadable settling behind his eyes. Then he stepped back slightly, reclaiming the space without needing to raise his voice. “Alright,” he said. “You and Maki get something to eat. Then unpack. Get some rest.”

Taki opened his mouth to argue.

Kaito didn’t give him the chance. “The rest of you,” he added, glancing briefly around the room, “back to work.” There were no complaints. Well, maybe one or two groans. But everyone started moving anyway.

People peeling off in different directions, the rhythm of the ranch picking up again like it had never been interrupted.

Taki lingered for half a second. Just long enough for Kaito to reach out, cupping the back of his head briefly and pressing a kiss to his hair. “Glad you’re home,” he murmured.

Then he stepped away. Work waiting. Always. Maki followed him out of the kitchen without being told, falling into step beside him easily. “They changed the amount of the next order,” Maki said, voice low, shifting back into something more practical. “We handled the contract. There’s a supply chain issue they’re working through to sell produce on their side, but it won’t affect us.”

Kaito nodded once. Listening.

Maki continued, measured, precise, the easy grin gone now replaced by something sharper and more focused. “They also agreed on your new pricing for the medical supplies. They really couldn't refuse with how much more expensive the vaccines are on the city markets.”

Kaito glanced at him briefly, a flicker of approval. “Good,” he said.

Behind them, the house hummed. Voices. Movement. Life continuing.

And somewhere inside, Taki’s voice rose again, bright, animated, already planning dinner like he hadn’t been gone for a few days.

Kaito didn’t turn back. He kept listening to Maki’s report while they walked towards the office. But the corner of his mouth lifted.

Just slightly.

By the time the sun had dipped low enough to soften the light through the kitchen windows, the house had settled into its usual rhythm again.

Doors opening and closing. Footsteps crossing the hallway. Voices drifting in and out like background noise rather than something that demanded attention.

Taki stood at the sink, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, letting the water run over his hands a second longer than necessary.

The counter behind him was already half-covered, ingredients laid out in uneven clusters, a cutting board waiting, a bowl of carrots stacked too high to be practical. He reached for the towel, drying his hands absently when heard the wood floors creak behind him. “You need help?”

EJ’s voice carried easily across the room, quieter than usual, like he was easing himself into the space rather than stepping into it.

Taki glanced over his shoulder. A smile came without effort. “Yeah,” he said, turning back to the counter. “Unless you’re just here to hide.”

EJ leaned against the doorframe for a second, considering that. “Both can be true,” he admitted. “I’m trying to avoid tractor maintenance duty.”

Taki huffed out a small laugh. “Fair. Wash your hands. You can start on the carrots.”

EJ pushed himself off the frame, already rolling his sleeves up as he crossed the kitchen. “Peeling duty?” he asked.

“You should be honored,” Taki said, reaching for the spices. “I only give that job to people that are trustworthy with a sharp utensils.”

EJ snorted under his breath but didn’t argue. The tap ran again. The quiet sounds of water, movement, fabric shifting. The rhythm settled after that.

Knife against cutting board. Peeler dragging along the surface of the carrots. The soft clink of bowls shifting as Taki moved between them, humming something under his breath that didn’t quite form into a recognizable tune. They worked like that for a while.

EJ was the one who broke the silence. “So…” he said, not looking up from what he was doing. “We never actually talked about the trip.”

Taki hummed, turning the meat in the bowl with his hands, working the seasoning through. “Yeah,” he said lightly. “Didn’t really feel like a good moment after you told me your entire life story.” A small laugh slipped out of him before he could stop it.

EJ nudged his shoulder with his own as he reached for another carrot. “Wow,” he said dryly. “Glad to know my trauma set the mood.”

Taki grinned, bumping him back. “You did great,” he said. “Very compelling.”

EJ shook his head, but the corner of his mouth lifted anyway. “Did you have fun?” he asked after a second.

Taki nodded, more softly this time. “Yeah,” he said. “I did.” He paused, pressing the meat together a little more deliberately. “I really needed it. To get out for a bit. Clear my head from what happened in town.”

EJ’s hands stilled for half a second. “Yeah,” he said, quieter now. “About that… don’t worry about it.” His jaw tightened just slightly. “Brandt’s just—” He exhaled. “An unhappy asshole with too much power.”

Taki didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched, heavier this time, but not uncomfortable. Then he shifted, nudging EJ lightly with his elbow. “So,” he said, tone changing just enough to signal it. “I had a conversation with Maki.”

EJ stopped peeling immediately. He turned his head, eyes narrowing just slightly. “A conversation,” he repeated.

Taki glanced at him, then back down at the bowl, trying, and failing, to keep his expression neutral. “The conversation.”

That did it. 

EJ straightened fully now, eyebrows lifting, something bright snapping into place behind his eyes. “And you’re only telling me now?”

Taki laughed, shaking his head. “Keep peeling,” he said, pointing at the carrots. “I’ll talk.”

EJ stared at him for one more second. Then sighed dramatically and went back to work. “Go on,” he said.

Taki took a breath, like he was trying to figure out where to start. “Honestly?” he said. “It was kind of… embarrassing.”

EJ snorted. “That’s not promising.”

“I mean—” Taki dragged a hand through his hair. “I was trying to make it romantic, right? Like, build up to it.” He gestured vaguely. “And then I got nervous and just—asked him if he’d been flirting with me this whole time.”

EJ barked out a laugh, dropping a peeled carrot into the bowl. “Straight to the point.”

“Yeah, well,” Taki muttered. “He said yes.”

EJ raised an eyebrow. “And then?” he prompted.

Taki shrugged, working the meat again, slower now. “Then it kind of spiraled,” he admitted. “We ended up just… trauma dumping at each other. Saying all the reasons we’ll probably be terrible at this. All the ways we could mess it up. And how scared we are of hurting each other” EJ’s expression softened, just slightly. “But…” Taki added, quieter now, “we said we’d try anyway.”

EJ leaned back against the counter, watching him properly now. Taki didn’t look up. “Because we like each other,” he said. A beat. “Like, actually, like, romantically.”

EJ let out a breath through his nose, something fond and exasperated settling into his expression. “Don’t you say.” he said sarcastically.

Taki bumped his shoulder lightly, passing him a small bowl of seasoning. “Back to work,” he said.

EJ took it, shaking his head as he started working it into the carrots. “I’m deeply invested.”

Taki smiled. “He said he was going to… court me,” he added after a second, voice going just slightly quieter.

EJ paused. Then looked at him. “Court you?” he repeated, slow, like he was testing the words. “What 's this? the eighteen hundreds?”

Taki’s ears went red instantly. “I thought it was sweet.”

EJ held his gaze for a second longer. Then huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “It is,” he said. “I’m just messing with you.”

Taki nudged him again.  They worked in silence for a beat.

Then—

“So?” EJ said.

Taki blinked. “So what?”

EJ gave him a look. “Did you kiss?”

Taki groaned immediately, dropping his head forward. “No.”

EJ blinked. “No?”

“He was going to,” Taki said, dragging his hands down his face. “And then I panicked. And now it’s just—” He gestured vaguely. “Everywhere except my lips. My forehead, my cheek, my hand.”

There was a second of silence. Then EJ laughed. Loud and unrestrained. Taki shot him a betrayed look. “This is serious.”

“I’m sure it is,” EJ said, still laughing. “Deeply tragic.”

“I ruined the moment,” Taki insisted. “And now there hasn’t been another one.”

EJ wiped at his eyes, trying to get himself under control. “Don’t sweat it,” he said. “There’ll be a moment soon enough.”

“But it’s so hard!!,” Taki shot back. Then lowered his voice suddenly, glancing toward the door like it might hear him. “It’s bad Ej.”  EJ raised an eyebrow. Taki leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a whisper. “He took his shirt off at one point,” he said, horrified. “I almost died.”

EJ lost it again.

“I’m serious,” Taki insisted, whispering harder now. “How am I supposed to kiss him when every time he does something I just—panic?”

EJ shook his head, shoulders still shaking with laughter. “Then you’ll just have to do it while panicking,” he said. Taki groaned, dragging his hands down his face again.

And right then. “What are you two laughing about?” K’s voice cut in from the doorway.

Both of them froze. “Nothing,” they said at the same time.

K stared at them. Long enough for it to be awkward. Then he shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he crossed to the fridge, grabbed a soda, and headed back out without another word. “…Weirdos,” he added as he left. The door swung shut behind him.

Silence lingered for half a second. Taki and EJ looked at each other in complicity. Just a quiet, conspiratorial kind of smile. They turned back to the counter. And kept cooking.

—

By the time dinner was ready, the kitchen had transformed. The earlier quiet had been replaced with warmth, real warmth. Steam curled up from the stovetop, the scent of roasted spices and garlic settling into the walls, clinging to everything it touched. The counter was a controlled mess, bowls stacked, utensils abandoned mid-use, evidence of something made with care rather than precision.

Taki stood at the stove, finishing the last batch of meatballs, turning them carefully so they browned evenly. His movements had slowed, not from fatigue, but from that quiet satisfaction that came at the end of something done right. “Okay,” he called over his shoulder, raising his voice. “Food 's ready!”

That was enough. Footsteps followed almost immediately.

Chairs scraped lightly against the floor as they were pulled out. Someone opened a drawer. Someone else reached for plates without being told. The table began to set itself the way it always did, everyone falling into their place without discussion.

Taki turned just as Maki passed behind him. It was quick, barely a moment. A hand at his lower back. Warm and steady. Casual enough that anyone not paying attention might have missed it.

Taki didn’t.

The contact lingered just a second longer than necessary before Maki moved on, reaching for a stack of plates like nothing had happened.

Taki’s ears burned. EJ, standing across the counter, caught it immediately. He didn’t say anything, but he smirked, all knowing.

Taki shot him a look that said don’t, then turned back to the stove like that would fix it.

It didn’t.

They carried the food out together. Plates filled. Bowls passed. The table settled around them piece by piece until everyone was there, almost.

They waited.

No one started eating. Not yet.

Then the front door opened. Kaito stepped in, shrugging off his jacket as he crossed the threshold, the last of the outside air following him in. His gaze moved automatically, quickly assessing, before landing on the table. Then on Taki.

He paused just for a second. Something softened. He stepped forward, taking his usual seat at the head of the table. “Smells good, Thank you Taki” he said.

Taki smiled, small but bright. “EJ helped.”

Kaito’s eyes shifted briefly, meeting EJ’s across the table. “Thank you Ej,” he said. 

EJ nodded once. “Anytime.” That was enough. 

Kaito reached for his fork. “Alright,” he said simply. And the moment broke. Conversation picked up immediately, overlapping, easy and familiar. Plates moved. Hands reached. Food disappeared faster than it had any right to.

Nicholas was the first to react. He didn’t even try to be subtle about it. “Thank fuck” he exhaled, dropping his fork for a second as he leaned back, eyes closing briefly like he needed to process it. “Taki, you’re literally not allowed to leave again.”

K snorted beside him. “Don’t swear on the dinner table.”

It didn’t hold much power, not when Kaito reacted more or less the same  “Jesus fucking Christ,” he said, quieter but no less sincere, already reaching for more. “This is excellent.”

Taki laughed under his breath, shoulders relaxing as he leaned forward again, taking another bite like he hadn’t just been praised into the ground. Conversation carried on around him, half about the food, half about the ranch. Fence repairs. Feed schedules. Something about the east pasture needing attention before the next weather shift.

Taki listened, half-present, because something else had his attention. A hand, warm against his thigh. He didn’t look down, didn’t really need to when he knew who that hand belonged to. He just shifted slightly, turning his palm under the table until he found Maki’s hand and laced their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Taki adjusted his grip on his fork with his other hand, continuing to eat like nothing had changed, even as his thumb brushed lightly over Maki’s knuckles. Maki’s hand tightened in response. A small movement, barely visible, but enough. 

Taki glanced sideways. Maki was already looking at him. That same quiet, infuriating smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Taki smiled back before he could stop himself. Across the table, EJ cleared his throat.

Not subtle. It said.

Taki didn’t look at him, he just kicked him under the table, hard enough to make a point.

EJ choked on a laugh, covering it quickly with his glass.

Maki’s shoulders shook beside him.

The conversation didn’t stop.

Someone asked about the truck. Someone else brought up the supply run. K interrupted Nicholas at least twice. Yuma corrected someone’s estimate about feed usage without looking up from his plate.

Taki leaned back slightly in his chair, still holding Maki’s hand, still listening to the noise around him, the voices, the movement, the warmth of it all settling somewhere deep in his chest.

Dinner was good.

And the space between all of it, the quiet understanding, the presence, the way everyone fit without trying, that was good too.

Being here.

Being back.

Being part of it.

That was the best part.

When Taki finally made it back to his room, the house had settled into its quieter hours. Doors closed softly. Voices lowered. He dropped his bag onto the bed with a quiet exhale.

Unpacking should have been simple.

It wasn’t.

He folded things carefully, slower than necessary, shirts lined up, jeans stacked, a rhythm he didn’t quite need but followed anyway. Some things went straight into the drawers. Others into the laundry basket at his feet. 

Until—

He paused, frowned, dug back into the bag. He moved things aside, checked multiple times, but nothing. Taki exhaled sharply through his nose, pushing his hand deeper into the bag like that might magically produce it. “Where—”

A knock. “Looking for this?” Taki turned. Maki leaned casually against the doorway, one shoulder pressed to the wood, his posture loose. His toothbrush dangled from his fingers. 

Taki blinked. Then straightened. “Oh,” he said, already moving toward him. “Yeah—thank you, I thought I—”

Maki didn’t move, just held it out… and then, just slightly, pulled it back. Taki stopped in front of him, looking up with something halfway between fond and annoyed. “Give it to me,” he said. “We should go to sleep. I don’t know how you’re still standing.”

Maki shrugged, easy. “Built different.”

Taki rolled his eyes.

Maki extended the toothbrush again. This time, Taki reached for it, but Maki didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled. Taki stumbled forward, the space between them collapsing before he could react, his hands catching against Maki’s chest to steady himself. “—Seriously?” he started, glare already forming as he looked up.

It didn’t land. Because Maki was smiling. Softly. “You looked beautiful at dinner,” he said, voice low enough that it didn’t carry past the doorway.

Taki froze. The words hit somewhere unguarded, slipping past instinct before he could deflect them. “—What?” he said, because it was the only thing his brain could manage.

Maki’s hand came up, slow, deliberate. His thumb brushed along Taki’s cheek, barely there. “Like this,” he added quietly. “Happy looks good on you.”

Taki’s breath caught. Heat rose too fast, too sudden, he dropped his head forward, pressing his forehead against Maki’s collarbone like that might hide it. “Maki,” he groaned, muffled. “You can’t just—say shit like that.”

Maki huffed a quiet laugh, chest shifting under him. “I can,” he said. “I just did.”

Taki made a sound somewhere between protest and embarrassment, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of Maki’s shirt. For a second neither of them moved. Then Maki’s hand shifted. His fingers slid under Taki’s chin, lifting gently, slow enough to give him time to pull away.

He didn’t. Taki let himself be moved, eyes flicking up again, meeting Maki’s. Closer now, too close to pretend this was still casual.

There was something quieter in Maki’s expression this time. Less teasing, more certain. “I like you like this,” he said, softer now. “Right here. With me. It feels like you’ve always been with me.”

Taki swallowed. “Yeah?” he asked, barely above a breath.

Maki nodded once. “Yeah.” A pause. Then, after a second, “Feels… easy,” he added. Like that meant more than he knew how to explain.

Taki’s mouth curved, just slightly. “It does,” he said. Neither of them moved, but the space between them shifted. Closer.

Maki’s gaze dropped. His thumb traced lightly across Taki’s lower lip, the motion absent-minded at first, until it wasn’t. Until they both felt it. Taki’s breath stuttered. Maki’s hand stilled. Their foreheads almost touched now, the air between them warm, shared.

Close enough that Taki could feel it, Maki’s breath, uneven, his own, matching.

Finally.

The distance closing, slow and inevitable—

“Hey, Taki—have you seen my red hoodie?” K’s voice cut through the hallway, too loud, too close. They jumped apart.

Taki turned sharply, stepping back like he needed space to think again, heart hammering hard enough he could hear it.

Maki ran a hand through his hair, looking away for a second before straightening.

K appeared in the doorway a moment later, pausing as he took them both in. “…What are you doing?”

There was a beat. Maki lifted the toothbrush slightly, like that explained everything. “Returning lost property.” Taki grabbed it immediately.

K’s eyes flicked between them once. Twice. Then back to Taki. “Red hoodie?”

“Laundry room,” Taki said, voice just a little too quick.

K nodded slowly. “Right.” He stepped back, already turning away. “Go to sleep,” he added over his shoulder. “Both of you.” The hallway quieted again as he disappeared.

Silence settled. Taki and Maki stood there for a second. Then they both laughed. Soft at first. Then a little more, the tension breaking just enough to let it out. “Wow,” Taki muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “Incredible timing.”

Maki shook his head, still smiling. “He’s got a gift.” The laughter faded. Maki stepped forward again, slower this time, more deliberate. He took Taki’s hand, not pulling him in, not closing the distance the same way as before. Just holding it. Looking at him. Something steadier in his expression now. He lifted Taki’s hand slightly, brushing his lips against the back of it. Soft, lingering just a second longer than necessary. “Goodnight,” he said quietly. Then he let go. Turned and walked out before Taki could answer.

The room felt different after he left.

Taki stood there for a moment, toothbrush still in his hand, staring at the empty doorway like something had just… shifted.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Then sat down on the edge of his bed, pressing his palm flat against his chest like that might steady it.

It didn’t.

His heart was still racing. Still catching up. Still somewhere between almost and not yet.

Taki huffed out a small, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “Okay,” he muttered to himself.

Then, softer—

“Okay.”