The way back to their home is kind of strange, in a way. For how worked up Genesis had gotten both over text and then there in the bakery, it had clearly seemed important that he get Angeal into the garden. And yet, as they walk side by side together... Everything seems to have settled down, somehow. It's just the two of them, together like always, their hands joined together. Any and all fuss, whether that was an imagined fight or Angeal wondering if something terrible had happened - it's all gone.
Exactly how it should be.
As the garden comes into sight, brilliant arches of green heralding its existence even from so far away, Angeal chuckles at Genesis's comment on the order of their surnames. "See?" he murmurs. "We always end the argument like this. It's dumb."
It's why they've never come to a true decision for years and years now, probably ever since they were just dumb kids and first started talking about the idea without any inkling of just how deep that truly meant. Then again, that probably wouldn't have stopped them. Probably, Genesis would have always been like that.
And he's always been exactly like this, too - a sappy romantic who does things like have a favorite book of poetry, and pulls out a familiar little flower ring. It's not as though Angeal has been oblivious to its continued existence; his sensitive nose has been aware of that fading floral scent probably for the entire time that he and Genesis have lived together. Maybe even a little bit before then. But actually seeing Genesis pull it out, comment on that sunshine day so many years ago... Jeez. Angeal huffs, ducking his head momentarily as though that can hide the flush on his cheeks. "I'm still amazed you have that..."
It's just a soft mutter, a little aside, before Angeal falls silent to indeed allow Genesis to tell the story that's been fluttering free in his chest.
This is even despite the fact that this is a story that Angeal knows all too well. Of course he does; he's lived it. He can still remember with perfect clarity when he'd snuck into the Rhapsodos property, and met that redhead with bright eyes who'd seemed as familiar as his own home. It's with complete ease that he can pull up the memory of the day that Genesis got his hair cut there in the Hewley kitchen, allowed to be as short as he'd like it.
All fond memories, honestly. Ones that Angeal is glad to revisit. It's just - he doesn't understand why they're revisiting them.
At least.... not at first.
Not until Genesis keeps going, his hand tucked away in his coat pocket in a way it never is considering how expressive he is. Not until he keeps talking, and talking, about how much he loves Angeal, the way he'll always love Angeal - his heart thuds against the inside of his ribs hard, and Angeal almost holds his breath. This can't be what it is, can it?
His brain is absolutely falling apart as he tries to figure out how to deal with this - how he's supposed to deal with the ring he has waiting out of sight, and his own plans, all of that. Shit, could he react fast enough to shove Genesis's hand back down into his pocket before a proposal could happen? No, wait, he'd be an asshole for that, Genesis would be heartbroken over all this romantic build up only to look as though he's been turned down. Could he just interrupt him -?
And then Genesis holds out the ring, and Angeal really does stop breathing.
His mother loved the ring his father got her. Angeal has known that for as long as he's breathed. There might even be memories of when he was little, reaching for it where it hung from her neck on a little chain only to have it patiently pulled away from stubby baby fingers. How many times has he heard the story, told in his mother's fond soft tones? Of how his pa had to save up for so long just to get something in an antique store another town over, which he had to beg and bargain with some coworkers to go on for a work trip? She only wore it on her hand for special occasions. For his parents' anniversary.
How fantastic her and Pa looked, lit by a little bit of candlelight on those special nights, that rainbow near glowing with even that much. It always belonged on her, he thought.
And... it's there, now.
It's right there in front of him, when he never thought he'd see anything of his mother's ever again.
Angeal barely recognizes the fact that his eyes are aching, tears starting to gather there, heavy with more emotion than he knows how to name. "Gen, that's..."
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Exactly how it should be.
As the garden comes into sight, brilliant arches of green heralding its existence even from so far away, Angeal chuckles at Genesis's comment on the order of their surnames. "See?" he murmurs. "We always end the argument like this. It's dumb."
It's why they've never come to a true decision for years and years now, probably ever since they were just dumb kids and first started talking about the idea without any inkling of just how deep that truly meant. Then again, that probably wouldn't have stopped them. Probably, Genesis would have always been like that.
And he's always been exactly like this, too - a sappy romantic who does things like have a favorite book of poetry, and pulls out a familiar little flower ring. It's not as though Angeal has been oblivious to its continued existence; his sensitive nose has been aware of that fading floral scent probably for the entire time that he and Genesis have lived together. Maybe even a little bit before then. But actually seeing Genesis pull it out, comment on that sunshine day so many years ago... Jeez. Angeal huffs, ducking his head momentarily as though that can hide the flush on his cheeks. "I'm still amazed you have that..."
It's just a soft mutter, a little aside, before Angeal falls silent to indeed allow Genesis to tell the story that's been fluttering free in his chest.
This is even despite the fact that this is a story that Angeal knows all too well. Of course he does; he's lived it. He can still remember with perfect clarity when he'd snuck into the Rhapsodos property, and met that redhead with bright eyes who'd seemed as familiar as his own home. It's with complete ease that he can pull up the memory of the day that Genesis got his hair cut there in the Hewley kitchen, allowed to be as short as he'd like it.
All fond memories, honestly. Ones that Angeal is glad to revisit. It's just - he doesn't understand why they're revisiting them.
At least.... not at first.
Not until Genesis keeps going, his hand tucked away in his coat pocket in a way it never is considering how expressive he is. Not until he keeps talking, and talking, about how much he loves Angeal, the way he'll always love Angeal - his heart thuds against the inside of his ribs hard, and Angeal almost holds his breath. This can't be what it is, can it?
His brain is absolutely falling apart as he tries to figure out how to deal with this - how he's supposed to deal with the ring he has waiting out of sight, and his own plans, all of that. Shit, could he react fast enough to shove Genesis's hand back down into his pocket before a proposal could happen? No, wait, he'd be an asshole for that, Genesis would be heartbroken over all this romantic build up only to look as though he's been turned down. Could he just interrupt him -?
And then Genesis holds out the ring, and Angeal really does stop breathing.
His mother loved the ring his father got her. Angeal has known that for as long as he's breathed. There might even be memories of when he was little, reaching for it where it hung from her neck on a little chain only to have it patiently pulled away from stubby baby fingers. How many times has he heard the story, told in his mother's fond soft tones? Of how his pa had to save up for so long just to get something in an antique store another town over, which he had to beg and bargain with some coworkers to go on for a work trip? She only wore it on her hand for special occasions. For his parents' anniversary.
How fantastic her and Pa looked, lit by a little bit of candlelight on those special nights, that rainbow near glowing with even that much. It always belonged on her, he thought.
And... it's there, now.
It's right there in front of him, when he never thought he'd see anything of his mother's ever again.
Angeal barely recognizes the fact that his eyes are aching, tears starting to gather there, heavy with more emotion than he knows how to name. "Gen, that's..."