The smell of chocolate weaves through his—their—bedroom, interlaced into the threads of the sheets. Smears of brown from crumbly bars and messy fingers litter once spotless-white covers. Pieces of wrappers from various brands hang on the legs of the bed, along with half-eaten—now certainly melted—ice cream cones. The mess is a testament to the previous night full of indulgent sweet-tasting and M&M food fights. He's almost tempted to leave and lock the door if only to preserve the wrappers and stained carpet—and the addictingly sweet memories contained in each abandoned candy.
Ana would definitely laugh at him if she heard his sentimental thoughts.
He softly lets out air through his nose. It wouldn't do to lose himself in nostalgia yet. He still has many years before he decays into a senile, mawkish old man. But then—
As he looks fondly upon the smaller man sprawled and entangled in the bedsheets, he can't help but think—fuck it all. If he could spend the rest of his life with the fiery redhead, he hardly minded a few (dozen) grey hairs sprouting early.
He places a soft kiss on Kamanosuke's forehead.
Yeah, he definitely doesn't mind.