"Do you know what today is, Ritsuka?" Soubi asked me shortly after I woke up. I stretched my sleep-heavy limbs and rubbed my eyes, giving him an odd look. Soubi smiled and repeated his question.
"Um, Wednesday?" I replied groggily. Soubi smiled again, kissing me and running the back of his hand gently down my stomach. I had shared his bed long enough to know what that meant and was more than willing to participate. Much later that day, the two of us went to the park, as we still often did, and walked around in comfortable silence. I felt his fingers thread through mine. Even after seven years of loving him and four of being able to openly express our affection, holding his hand made my heart race, as if our relationship was still something taboo.
We walked towards a picnic table and Soubi asked me the question again. "Do you know what today is, Ritsuka?" He sat opposite me and leaned forward slightly.
"It's still Wednesday," I reply with a smile. "Is that not the answer you're looking for?"
"No," he said, bringing my hand up to his lips. "Think harder."
It must be important, I think to myself, for Soubi to be this adamant about me remembering it. There really weren't that many days Soubi held as important, but I didn't understand what was so special about Wednesday. After a long moment of pondering his question, I shook my head slightly. "Nothing's jumping out at me."
He leaned across the table, his forehead almost touching mine. "Let me remind you, then," he whispered as he cupped my head in his hands. He said, "Strength. Give me strength," and bent his head to kiss me. Even before our lips met, I realized the importance of the day with a jolt: I had meet Soubi ten years ago today.
After the kiss ended, I replied with false petulence, "You said you wouldn't do anything."