(A/N): So I did a thing. Now I'm gonna go crawl in a hole and hug my bleeding heart.
"How's the food coming along?"
Tidus slips through the curtain of their doorway, grinning, carrying a wicker basket of their wet laundry from his latest visit to the river. Inhaling the heady air, he hums in appreciation. "Smells good!"
Yuna glows from the praise, sprinkling another dash of a Besaidian spice he recently fell in love with on top of the seaweed walnut stir-fry. He swoops in for a kiss, distracting her with a nuzzle to her neck, and laughs as she pouts at him, retreating into their backyard. Yuna refocuses on her task, weary and content. Depositing the food into two ceramic bowls, she checks on the state of the wild game they caught in the forest sizzling on the gridiron stove and squints, buffeted by the heat emanating from the charcoal. "Hmm, maybe a little longer…"
"Why don't you take a nap? I can watch over the food as I hang the laundry."
She pauses, hesitating on the offer, and shakes her head. "Mm, it's okay. It won't take much longer."
"No no no, don't give me that!" Tidus bursts back in to clasp her shoulders, tugging her to their quilted bedspread. "Those old cronies talked you to death last night again, didn't they? Sheesh. They need to seriously learn to do things themselves... Hey, don't give me that look. You know it's true. No, let me do it. You go and rest. Relax."
Tidus always gripes about the matrons. An old, comforting tune that sings to her heartstrings, and Yuna smiles, acquiescing to his concern.
Sprawling on top of the cot, she sighs, fighting the lull to sleep until the darkness claims her.
Yuna jolts, coughing, awakened by the acrid veil of smoke shrouding her hut.
Stumbling over at once to dowse the smoldering flames, she throws the bucket of clean drinking water aside and keels over the stone countertop.
"...T-Tidus?"
She staggers to search where she saw him last, knowing full well what she will find. Clothing lines are bereft of more than half their laundry, a basket full and neglected, a shirt or two lying crumpled on the dirt.
Crumbling to her knees, Yuna chokes in the tears, devolving into a pitiful mess of breathless sobs.
"Hey, don't beat yourself up inside."
Tidus breaks the silence, his gentle attempts to console the morose woman tireless and sad; oblivious to his responsibility of the blame, a hole in his gaping memory. "It still tastes pretty good. Hey, look―." To emphasize his point, he stuffs his mouth to the brim with charred food, chewing with hearty gusto― and choking in his bravado when unable to swallow.
Yuna finally looks up, giggling in spite of herself.
The sound coming out pathetic and garbled from her trembling lips. "Thank you…"
"It's fine. Just got a little crisp to it. Adds character! And you know what, the more you practice, the better it'll be. After all, practice makes perfect!" Tidus smiles, proud of that sliver of philosophy.
In the unspoken promise of a long domestic life together, stumbling into more memories that will molt from happy little mistakes, Yuna can only force the smile on her face.
"...you're right. There's always next time."
"Mmhmm. Exactly! Next time~"
Yes. Next time.