sweet as honey

Asahi should probably start unpacking the office today.

They know they have no hope of getting any work done until they get it fully unpacked, because the boxes will haunt them and keep them from getting any writing done. Their second mug of coffee climbs the creaky old stairs with them and sits on the desk beside their laptop as they fold their arms and survey the detritus in the room.

One box at a time, they remind themself.

First they set up the record player on its stand beside the desk, then the cat tree in the opposite corner to keep Moe from climbing on the desk. The records themselves go in the milk crates beneath the stand, alphabetized by artist last name. Then they fill the desk with its various accouterments: the pen holder, the pens themselves, the legal pad full of scratched out ideas and random late night doodles, that weird little cell plush Yuu had gotten them for their birthday a few years back. Moe wanders in and settles on the second shelf of the tree, and Asahi goes over to scratch behind her ears.

“It’s going well, thanks for asking,” they murmur. Moe purrs. “Yeah, I’m getting to the books. It just takes more time with them because Yuu and Ryuu packed them so there’s no way they stayed alphabetized.” A meow. “I’ll text them later, we both know they’re not up yet.”

Asahi looks down at Moe, who looks completely unaffected.

“I’m talking to a cat now,” they sigh. “That’s the life I’m living.”

Moe meows again, which either means she wants food or that this behavior isn’t a change from the way they lived in the city. They can’t quite tell.

Asahi takes their empty mug down to the kitchen and pours her some breakfast. They’re just throwing some toast in the toaster for themself when there’s a knock at the door.

“Early,” Asahi says, either to Moe or to themself. They pad across the hardwood floor and into the living room to answer it.

“Hi, how can I help–?”

Asahi is greeted by the most radiant person they’ve ever seen.

The man is wearing a baseball cap with a tiny rainbow embroidered into the space where the logo would be, a plain white v-neck, and jeans that have seen better days. Silver hair peeks out from under the cap, and he has a beauty mark just beneath one of his hazel eyes.

Asahi stares, realizing too late their mouth is open and closing it. “Sorry,” they murmur, and the angel laughs.

“I’m Koushi Sugawara, he/him today.” He reaches a hand out to Asahi, who looks at it a second too long before reaching to shake it. “I’m your neighbor.”

“Asahi Azumane, they/them…always.”

Koushi laughs brightly. It’s already Asahi’s new favorite sound. “Nice to hear another name like mine! I don’t get that a lot around here.”

Asahi’s brain struggles to form words in the presence of this beautiful human. “Uh, right.”

“Where are you from, Asahi?”

Asahi closes their eyes to clear their head. When they open them, they look just to Koushi’s left, so they’re not blinded by his luster, and that helps them get out some complete sentences. “Here in Ohio, originally, but I lived in Chicago for a while. Went to college out there and stayed for a few years after.”

“And what brings you back here?”

“I really like corn,” Asahi answers, and they’re treated to another one of Koushi’s wonderful laughs. “And, uh. I like the quiet. It’s peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” Koushi agrees, nodding. “Oh. I nearly forgot. I know it’s pretty traditional to bring your neighbor some sort of baked good, but I can’t bake for shit. I have honey, though!” He holds a jar out to Asahi. “Made by my own colony.”

“Colony of…?”

“Bees!” Koushi’s still holding the jar.

“Bees…” Asahi repeats. They’re feeling faint suddenly.

“Bees!” Koushi shakes his hand, waving the honey in Asahi’s face. They finally accept the jar.

“You’re a beekeeper?”

“Yep!” Koushi shoves his hands in his pockets. “I have a few apiaries out behind my house. You should come over sometime, if you’re interested.”

“No,” Asahi says quickly. “No, uh. That’s fine.”

Koushi’s smile dulls just a little. “Right, well, okay then. It was nice to meet you, Asahi. Let me know if you need anything.”

And just like that, he’s gone. Moe comes out of the kitchen right as Asahi closes the door. She looks up at them and licks her lips.

“I didn’t miss any chance! He has bees, Moe, I hate bees.”

Moe blinks once. Asahi huffs at her.

“What do you know, anyway.”

Moe turns around and heads back upstairs with her tail high in the air, and Asahi sighs and follows after her.

Asahi’s mother may have raised a coward, but she definitely also instilled in them a sense of good manners, which means that once they’ve finally got the office unpacked, they hole up in the kitchen and start working on a loaf of bread for Koushi. They’re not much of a baker either, truth be told, but Ryuu talks them through making banana bread on a video call and it smells passable when it comes out of the oven.

“You know you’ve blushed the whole time you’ve talked about this neighbor,” Yuu points out, popping up in the side of the frame. “Are you interested or something?”

“Of course not,” Asahi answers, unable to help the heat in their cheeks. “We’ve only met the one time. And I’m afraid of bees.”

“You know they’re not made of bees, right?” Ryuu asks, and that makes Yuu cackle. Asahi hangs up on both of them.

They walk the quarter mile down to Koushi’s house the next morning, slowing when they come within sight of the front yard. Wildflowers of all shapes and sizes make up the rest of the yard, sectioned off with strips of clover between. Each little section has a sign identifying it, although all the flower names are in Latin. They recognize goldenrod and asters, but nothing of the rest. There’s a bird bath in the middle of the yard, and some more little structures Asahi can’t name. It’s breathtaking, the sort of garden that would feature in a magazine.

Asahi makes their way up to the door, careful to use the stepping stones and not step on anything in the yard. Koushi’s wearing a smile when they open the door.

“Come to see the bees?” they ask, a hand on their hip.

Asahi frowns. “Uh, no. I brought you bread.”

They hold up the loaf. Koushi grins and steps out of the doorway.

“Come in, then,” they beckon, and before Asahi can protest that really, they hadn’t meant to intrude, Koushi’s leading them into the kitchen. The walls are sky blue, tiny clouds added in here and there. The cabinets are bright yellow, and next to the fridge there’s a chalkboard covered in numbers Asahi can’t decipher.

“What kind of bread is it?” Koushi asks.

“Banana.”

“Sit.”

There’s a small table with four mismatched chairs. As Asahi chooses a vibrant green chair Koushi produces two mugs and sets them on the table in front of them.

“Cow’s milk okay?”

Asahi blinks. “Yes?”

Koushi goes to the fridge. “Some city folk will only drink almond or soy,” they say. They return with a glass container full of milk that they pour into the two mugs. “This is from the Johnstons down the road. They won’t take my money anymore since I found their cat a few years ago. She’d gone for a walk in the rain and gotten frightened by a storm, I think, and was hiding out in my shed.” Koushi turns back to the fridge to stow the milk away. “I try to give them enough honey and wax products to make it even, but I suspect I’m in their debt more than they’re in mine.”

Asahi isn’t sure what to do with any of this. “I’m not really city folk, you know.”

“Hm. You didn’t say where in Ohio you’re from.”

“Apple Valley.”

“Ah. You pass, then.” Koushi sits across from Asahi and slides a plate over to them. “Thank you for the bread. I’m going to have to bring you more honey now.”

“I haven’t even opened the last jar you brought me,” Asahi observes.

Asahi watches for a moment. Koushi tears a piece off their slice of bread and pushes it into their mouth, licking the crumbs off their fingers. Their eyes fall shut, and their throat bobs as they swallow. “This is damn good bread, Asahi Azumane.” Their lips quirk upward into a grin. “And I can’t have you one-upping my good Midwestern manners.”

They shove more bread into their mouth, less graceful than before. Asahi laughs and takes a bite of their own.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The visit goes well–almost exceptionally well. Asahi stays for nearly three hours, talking about their upbringing and schooling and life story to Koushi, who seems to produce questions from thin air. They also delight in making Asahi blush. They’re both hoarse by the time Asahi finally stands and says they have to get back to Moe. Koushi beams at them and tells them to come back soon.

Some muse takes Asahi by the neck the next day, and they shut themself in the office and don’t emerge until well after midnight. Moe makes them get up just as early as usual, though, and they bemoan the lack of sleep but decide to utilize the cool morning weather to get some gardening done.

They’re just starting to feel sweat gather on the back of their neck when a voice interrupts them.

“Asahi Azumane!”

Asahi looks up from the garden to see Koushi in a wide brim hat and a sundress. She’s leaning against their mailbox. Asahi stands and stretches out the ache in their back as they walk down the driveway.

“Good morning,” Asahi greets. “Pronouns?”

“She/her, thank you,” Koushi says. She smiles. “I’m headed into town and saw you out here digging. I thought you might like to join me at the farmer’s market.”

Asahi manages something that probably resembles a smile. “Sure, I’d like that. Let me change and grab my wallet.”

“Take your time, handsome,” Koushi says, and Asahi turns before she can see the blush all over their face.

Asahi muses over her behavior while they run inside. Koushi’s been at least a little flirtatious both times they’ve met, so they suppose she must be like this with everyone. She seems like the sort of person who likes getting a rise out of people, and Asahi’s the sort of person who’s easily flustered by having interest expressed. She must have read that in them somehow.

They change into a clean flannel and jeans and re-do their hair, making their bun look neater than before. They shove their wallet into their back pocket and locate their keys, call a goodbye to Moe, and head back out to where Koushi is waiting for them.

“Shall we?”

She offers them an elbow. Asahi blushes all over again but takes it, and they set off down the driveway.

It’s only a mile into town, and they take it at a leisurely pace. Koushi never lets go of Asahi’s arm, even occasionally touching it with her free hand. Asahi tries gallantly to keep up with the conversation, but it’s hard when his focus is on trying not to trip or blush or otherwise embarrass himself.

Everyone at the market seems to know Koushi, and absolutely none of them know Asahi. She introduces Asahi to everyone, careful to slip their pronouns in each time, and they shake so many hands they’re a little afraid of losing their own. By the time they’ve made their rounds, Koushi’s tote bag is stuffed full of produce and goods, and Asahi has learned and subsequently forgotten at least twenty-five names they’ll have to try to remember later.

“Can I make a confession?” Asahi asks as they’re leaving.

She’s taken their elbow again, and she smiles up at him. “Of course.”

“I was…surprised,” Asahi begins. “Everyone seemed to pick up on my pronouns right away. And no one misgendered you at all. Not that I thought anyone would be outright hateful or anything, but this is a small town. Where I’m from it was a lot more conservative, I guess.”

“I try to make it obvious what I prefer when I’m in town,” Koushi says. “I think I set two or three old men right when I first came out, and rumor spread pretty quickly that I gave them hell, so the rest of the older crowd fell into line. I don’t need them to understand, really, I just want a little respect. And they give that. They’ll be good to you, too, or they’ll have me to answer to.”

“What kind of hell did you give them?” Asahi can’t help but ask.

Koushi smirks. “Nothing more than a good verbal dressing down. I did hear one of them say later that their ancestors wept in their graves at the thought of it, though.”

Maybe it’s Asahi’s imagination, but it feels like their feet are slower on the way home than they had been on the way into town. It’s almost like they’re trying to draw out the time they have left, to make it last longer before they have to part. It must be their own reluctance. Koushi chats happily as ever, and Asahi is content to listen to her fill the silence.

They stand at the end of Asahi’s driveway for twenty minutes when they reach it. Koushi leans against their mailbox, just like she had that morning. “I had a damn good day, Asahi Azumane,” she says. “Thanks for being my date.” Before Asahi can sputter out a reply, she pulls a jar from her tote bag and shoves it into their hands. “And this is yours. Good night!”

It’s a full minute before Asahi has recovered enough to say anything at all, and by then she’s long gone. They look down at the jar of honey in their hands and groan softly to themself.

Maybe Yuu and Ryuu were right. It seems like Asahi is coming down with a crush, and a bad one, at that.

Asahi bakes another loaf of banana bread the next week and walks it down to Koushi’s, although they aren’t home, so they end up leaving it in the mailbox. A few days later, there’s a knock on the door, and by the time Asahi gets to it, there’s no one standing there at all. There is, however, a basket with no fewer than four jars of variously flavored honeys and a card with their name written in Koushi’s neat handwriting. On the inside it reads:

You may have the face of an angel, but your devilish ways won’t fool me!

Asahi sighs as they bring the basket inside and set it on the table beside the first two jars of honey Koushi has given them. They hate to think all this is going to waste. They consider packaging some up and sending it to Yuu and Ryuu, but then they consider the amount of teasing it would involve and quickly discard that thought.

Maybe they should just say something to Koushi.

It doesn’t come up the next time they’re together, a rainy day in which he shows up on Asahi’s porch with no umbrella and asks for a cup of sugar. They sit and talk for hours in the dining room, far away from the kitchen and all the jars they haven’t touched. When the rain finally lets up and he dances back toward his own house, Asahi finds another jar on their table. They ride together to the next town over one weekend, because Asahi wants to go to the library, and when Asahi pulls the car into the driveway that evening, they discover there’s a jar in their cupholder.

Moe gives them a distinct look as they slide it into the pantry, where the rest of them are now hiding.

“Stop it,” they admonish her. “I’ll figure it out, okay? I’m just–workshopping.”

She’s heard that excuse before. She doesn’t believe it now, either.

Everything comes to a head on a Wednesday afternoon. Koushi wanders over to their house because she admits she has nothing better to do than bother Asahi, so she settles in a spare chair in their office and flips through a book while they work on their novel. An hour or two passes this way before she declares aloud that she’s going to find herself a snack. Asahi doesn’t think much about it at all, lost in a sentence that’s sticking to itself, and then Moe climbs into their lap and butts their hand repeatedly.

“What do you–the pantry!”

Asahi sprints downstairs, but it’s too late–Koushi has already discovered the honey. She turns to them with confusion in her face.

“It’s not what you think,” they blurt.

“Do you…not want these?” she asks.

Asahi feels misery crawl up his throat at the look on her face. “The truth is, I don’t even like honey!” Asahi exclaims. Koushi looks aghast. “But I didn’t want to tell you because of your damn Midwestern manners or whatever, I didn’t want to see the way your face looked if I upset you! It was bad enough when I told you I didn’t want to see the bees, and I didn’t even know you then!”

She stares at them for several long moments, her face still screwed up in horror. Slowly, it twists into a grin.

“Oh, Asahi Azumane,” she says. “You’ve got it bad for me, don’t you?”

“W-Wha–?” they stutter, their face turning bright red. “I–I mean, I–”

She interrupts them by grabbing the front of their flannel and tugging them down for a kiss. Asahi panics, just a little, but she seems to predict this response, because she reaches up and cups the back of their neck, holding them close to keep him from running away. Moment by moment, as she doesn’t pull away, they relax. They pause only when Moe meows at them, and Koushi backs off with a grin.

“Luckily for both of us, I’ve got it down bad for you, too.”

Asahi bites their lip. “You do?”

She laughs brightly. “Honey, was that not obvious when I half-jumped you just now?”

“Maybe you were just being nice–?”

She shakes her head and kisses them again, and Asahi is forced to reckon with the fact that she clearly likes them as much as they like her, even though they’ve spurned her many, many jars of honey.

“You can have it all back,” they offer when she finally takes a breath. “I’ll still know your Midwestern manners far outstrip my own.”

“Nah,” she replies. “I’ll keep it here. That way I don’t have to bring over my own jar every time I stay the night and want honey on my toast in the morning.”

Asahi gapes at her, and her beautiful laughter fills the whole kitchen.