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It's the twentieth of May when Rosco wakes up, to one single text from his lover — Malim.
"5201314 </3" is what the text reads, with no further elaboration on the sender's part.
His brow raises, high enough that they seem to be escaping his forehead. It's something Malim's always teased Rosco about. He quickly shrugs it off however, and chalks it up to Malim just pulling his leg again. Besides, they have a date later in the evening anyway, at the insistence of Malim. It's certainly way more important than Malim being very Malim at the moment to Rosco. As such, Rosco simply decides to just...not acknowledge the text at all. A poor decision on his part, might I add.
Instead, he chooses to reply with a simple, "good morning to you too" instead. Malim sees it instantly. He doesn't reply, which is very much not how the usual Malim acts like, Rosco reflects. Perhaps the numbers were supposed to mean something instead of a keyboard smash on Malim's part?
Minutes pass without a reply from his lover. Rosco's eyes linger on the little 'seen' underneath his text, silently praying that he didn't make Malim upset. Rosco's always been bad with his feelings. He's not used to Malim not blowing his phone up with series of texts, mostly complaints about something that went wrong earlier.
Rosco goes about his morning like normal. Totally. There isn't anything up with Malim, Rosco to himself as his fingers itch to check his phone for the fifth time in under a minute. If he gets reminded of Malim even more than he already does though, it's something we'll never know.
The day passes by in a blur. Rosco's eyes are perhaps a tad bit too glazed over as he works though; his mind working through how brusque his text might have seemed to his boyfriend. When he leaves his workplace early, in order to prepare for the date (and to apologise for however he may have made Malim feel), his mind is still deciding whether or not he was overthinking this.
He arrives back at his apartment. Changes his clothes, his movements stiff and mechanical. After eveything is done, he lays on the edge of the bed, silently unraveling. He checks his messages again, silently hoping that Malim might have responded at some point in time. Nothing.
Rosco isn't exactly sure what he did for radio silence from his lover. He has an inkling that it had something to do with that text in the morning, he just doesn't know what those numbers were supposed to mean. He should've asked, Rosco realizes, cursing softly under his breath. Rosco knows his significant other feels more deeply than him. Always has. He knows this. But knowing something doesn't exactly mean he knows how to sound gentler, how to treat Malim the way he deserves to be treated. All Rosco knows is that he doesn't want to mess this up. He doesn't wish to lose Malim due to a mere misunderstanding that could have been easily sorted out.
Just as he brings his phone up to text Malim, a knock sounds on his door. It's gentle, but firm enough to break Rosco out of his thoughts. He recognises that sound, he thinks, his legs moving before his brain and unlocking the door. Or, more specifically, the person behind that knock. He's long since ingrained in his brain almost all of Malim's small pet peeves and unconscious habits. He remembers how much Malim hates the heat during summer. He knows exactly how high Malim's standards for himself are. He knows that he's probably overthinking everything right now but he can't help it.
But this is Malim, who's outside his door. Malim, who's always tried to understand Rosco. He only wishes to do the same for Malim. He wants to do his best for Malim. He can't help that he overthinks just slightly too much. When the door swings open he sees the man himself, so breathtakingly beautiful Rosco almost forgets to breathe. Malim has always been attractive to Rosco. But he looks slightly more adorable today. His hair's disheveled, beads of sweat trickling down the nape of his neck. What's more, Malim isn't empty handed either. He's holding a bouquet of red carnations.
Malim leans against the doorframe, panting heavily. He must have run here, Rosco thinks to himself. He simply pulls the man inside the apartment and closes the door. Forget the plans Malim must have made. Rosco's fine with anything, so long as that fiery haired man is with him. Rosco hands him a glass of water while he waits for his lover to catch his breath. When he does, Malim looks up to Rosco with such a pleading look in his eyes it makes him feel disconcerted.
"I wasn't ignoring you out of anger I promise!" Is the first thing Malim exclaims. "I just...wanted to get back at you a bit because I got annoyed at you," is what comes muttered after, in the tone a child might adopt after getting caught stealing cookies. The silence that takes after the room is deafening. The vein in Rosco's forehead buldges as he exhales through his nose. Forget all those sentimental things he thought. This man...really has a knack for being able to arise such emotions out of Rosco.
But he can't really find it in himself to get that upset about this. Not when Malim quickly offers the bouquet in his hand to him. Not when Malim looks like a kicked puppy. And especially not when Malim gets up to kiss Rosco's face all over.
"And here I thought I'd done something enough to warrant radio silence from my boyfriend," Rosco grumbled as Malim continues his onslaught of pecks.
"You owe me an explanation before we go anywhere you planned. What exactly was '5201314' supposed to mean, hm?"
"It means..." Malim mumbles as he steps back, suddenly finding the sofa interesting.
"Well?" Rosco presses, wondering what those numbers couldn't have meant.
"It means...I love you for a lifetime!" Malim declares, seeing that there was no use in trying to dodge the question.
"It's a chinese internet slang y'know...the numbers kinda sound like '我爱你一生一世' which means I love you for a lifetime when you say it it chinese... It's like the chinese version of valentines; a lot of people say that to their partners on this specific day and I just wanted to say it to you," he adds on, looking more and more like a kicked puppy by the second.
Rosco just looks at the man, his face neutral even as he fights back a grin. He sets the bouquet gently down on the table feeling almost shy. A red hue blooms on Malim's cheeks, the look in his eyes flustered and defiant. Rosco sighs, trying to hold back from doing something stupid. Like throttle him. Or kiss him. "Nevermind that for now. Where did you intend to take me today? We'll talk about this later. Making me all worried..." Rosco mutters, lending the other man a hand to help him up.
"Just a park around here. There's something I want to show you though," Malim replies, looking at Rosco properly for the first time since he entered the apartment. The former practically drags the latter to the door the moment he stands back up (if you look close enough, you can see Malim's tail waving), the earlier confrontation pretty much forgotten already.
The walk to the park is the furthest from quiet, courtesy of Malim, his noisy complaints of mundane things filling the air between them. Their hands find its way to the other unconsciously. The atmosphere is breezier now. Gone is the humidity of the afternoon of most May days — the weather is now pleasantly breezy. Nothing's perfect, but everything's wonderful.
When they arrive at their destination, Malim leads Rosco towards an inconspicuous corner far away from prying eyes. There's a bench, shaded by a tall tree. What's more, there's a patch of wildflowers blooming quietly right next to the tree. Malim points at the patch, "I brought you here because I came across these. They reminded me of you, Rosco. They don't demand attention by blooming in a flamboyant manner, they're just...there. But they're still one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. And I'm not just talking about the flowers anymore." Something in Rosco's heart aches in the best possible way at the words, the tenderness in Malim's eyes almost too much for him to handle; it makes him want to weep.
“我爱你，一生一世。”
(I love you, for a lifetime.)
Rosco doesn't know whether to cry or laugh. "Since when did you get so sappy?" Is what escapes his mouth. He doesn't like the way his voice comes out too shaky. But maybe he doesn't mind the unsteadiness in his voice, not when Malim laughs at the look on Rosco's face. Rosco doesn't like being laughed at, regardless of whatever reason. But Malim has always been an exception.
Rosco's legs move before he processes what he's doing. When he comes back to his senses, he finds himself burying his face into Malim's neck, his vision blurred. He doesn't even realise he's crying, not until Malim pulls back and wipes the tears away so gently. Ah. He's crying. Some distant part of him wants to cease the wave of tears; he finds that he can't. Not when Malim is right in front of him, eyes wide from panic at the vulnerable side Rosco's displaying. Not when he feels so overwhelmed by how much love he holds for the man in front of him. Despite everything, it's Malim. Despite everything, it's the man who has never stopped loving him. Despite it all, it's the man in front of him.
Rosco knows that when he's calmed down, he'll probably feel embarrassed. He'll probably make up a lousy excuse for why he cried. (He definitely won't be fooling his lover, not really.) He'll probably fall asleep and wake up with puffy eyes and grumble about it. But he can't help it, not at all. He can't help wishing he had his Malim's knack with words, to tell him just how much he adores the man. The thought evaporates in a wink when Malim seals his lips to Rosco's, not minding the salty taste of his tears. Thankfully no one is there to intrude upon their moment. It's just the two of them, still standing, still choosing the other in spite (or because) of everything.