𝚂𝚞𝚐𝚊𝚛 | 𝚔. 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚊

- Sunshine -

He doesn't reflect my gaze, eyes trained on the road ahead. "You asked to go to the park, remember?"

-

The sky is a satin blue, dashed with thin clouds and a bright afternoon sun. Suga parks the car in the empty lot. I'm surprised there aren't more people out and about, it's a beautiful Saturday for a stroll.

Our favorite location lies at the center, a grassy hill that rises halfway the height of trees and provides a clear view of the horizon. There are trees and bushels scattered around, some with flowers and hidden delights, berries and colored leaves that scatter and fall in a tattered breeze.

The pathway around the park is paved in cement, curving around the hidden hillside. There are several small ponds, with appropriately small koi and minnows mingling lazily in their depths. We often come by and feed them, the breadcrumbs settling for moments over the water before snatched up by a hungry maw.

I unbuckle my seatbelt, open the door, and step outside, adjusting to a blinding summer light. It blends into something more bearable, a warmth that gently reminds you of the comfort it provides. Suga appears at my side, gently sliding his fingers into mine. His presence, dually warm and comforting, blankets me in a hazy sensation. I flash him a lazy smile, fluttering my lashes against blinding sunlight.

The trail we follow is worn, the cement cracked and faded from tree roots and years of use. Thousands of shoes and paws have found their way here in one way or another. We head in the general direction of the center, winding around trees and stray bushes.

We stride halfway past a lonely pond, dashed with lilies and cattails. It's around 20 feet in diameter and forms a relatively circular shape. The sun reflects off the surface, the waters stirred lightly by a passing zephyr. I stop to glance at the murky depths. Orange and white swirl lazily by the shore, their forms partially concealed by reedy shadows and muck.

I wish we had some bread for them today. I shoot a prayer to the skies, hoping someone comes by to feed the poor souls. We resume walking and I poke Sugawara's side with a free hand. "We'd better bring them a loaf tomorrow."

"In the case we come back, of course, love." He replies, running his free hand through his hair. It's especially breezy today, southern winds cutting through the hillside like a bubbling spring.

Eventually our paved trail curls off, away from our destination, and we step from it, treading on grassy slopes blanketed in shrubbery. The hill isn't far from here. The landscape is cast in filtered shadow from cascading depths of tree leaves and limbs. Most trees have initials carved into them, remnants of memory left behind by other souls who happened to pass by. I run my fingers along the bark, reminiscing upon similar days.

I recall muffled laughter, the lazy carving of a knife, pressing our fingers against the chipped wood to imprint the texture of amateur swirls in our memory. I share a smile with myself at the recollection and glance at Sugawara. His expression is blanketed in something similar, light and warm and full of bubbling joys. He notices my stare and smiles, a flush spreading above his grin.

"You love it here, don't you," I tease, gently bumping my shoulder into him, "your eyes are shining." I blink. It reminds me of a little kid on Christmas day.

He wipes away a fake tear with his free hand, tossing away the imaginary droplet. "I could never admit to such a thing."

"Sure," I drag out the word coyly, catching his eye, "not like we come here every other day or anything."

"Oh, most definitely not." The hill is in sight now, glimpses of grassy incline peering through densely packed trees.

Our pace quickens.