Chapter Twenty-Six

"Do you ever think about when we were younger?" Kanda asked, trying to pass it off as a casual question— not something that's been pressing him recently.

"What do you mean?" Allen answered, not look up from his work.

"High school, I mean," Kanda said after a moment, with a vague hand gesture as he tried to specify. Allen hummed, still not looking up. "Its just— we were so dramatic— for years."

"We were young."

"We were fucking stupid."

Allen looked up at him, intrigued and amused.

"Oh?"

"I mean— look at everything that happened. We were so sensitive to everything, and everything was some big deal. It was like— we were trapped in something that only let us think about what was happening right that moment. We were so wrapped up in it all, I don't know how we got out of it."

"We grew up. Got some perspective, I guess. I don't even remember half the stuff that happened," Allen said with a small laugh. "I do think about it, sometimes," he added more seriously, "about what would've happened to us—"

"What would've happened if we didn't pull our heads out of our asses?" Kanda laughed. Allen threw his pen across the table, hitting Kanda's shoulder. He then held his out, expectantly, and Kanda gave him the pen back.

"You don't have to put it like that— but yeah. We spent so long circling each other and prodding each other. It's hard for me to imagine it, but," Allen swallowed, "we were so terrible to each other, for a while. If that continued— I don't think we'd have each other still."

Kanda nodded, he had similar thoughts himself: they would have never made it. He still couldn't wrap his head around it sometimes. They had such bad communication skills: everything was a misinterpretation that led to passive aggression, which led to an argument, after which they would make up (briefly), then repeat. They truly were stupid, Kanda thought. He couldn't help but feel guilty for the years of antagonizing Allen. His fiancé expressed some similar remorse in the past as well. Their first year of knowing each other, as they've both come to agree, was a complete train wreck on their parts— yet they couldn't imagine where they would be without that. It was ridiculous, all that drama between them— and their friends— but so integral to who they were now.

"Hey, もや—"

Allen, once again, threw his pen at Kanda's face, hitting him square on the cheek. Allen held his hand out, waiting for the pen to be returned. Kanda, with a deadpan expression, threw it across the room.

"You're the worst," Allen muttered as he got up. "Ba-kan-da."

"You know," Kanda said, smirking, while tying his hair up into a ponytail, then standing up and walking over to Allen. "I was thinking we could have soba for dinner."

"I'll order take-out."

"That's not the same as homemade." Kanda gave Allen a somewhat firm 'you-should-know-better' poke to his forehead to punctuate his point. Allen immediately swatted his hand away.

"The take-out is for me."

"How about I go take the dog out for a walk, get some ingredients for the noodles, and—" He paused for dramatic effect, "— stop at the bakery before it closes?"

Kanda had already grabbed his jacket and got the dog ready to go before Allen answered with a begrudging, "fine," and demanded that his fiancé bring back a dazzling assortment of pastries.

"Got it," Kanda said, walking out the door, dog leash in hand and the dog herself, standing in the hallway and waiting to go out, "もやし."

Through the closed door, he could hear Allen shout, "I will divorce you, asshole— grab some coffee while you're out, too," and Kanda made a mental note to stop at the café next to the bakery.