For You, I Try
As they’re growing comfortable with their relationship, Mouri makes an effort to tell Edmund that he loves him more because as a Bubblecorn, you only live forever and that’s a long time to beat around the bush about his feelings.
Of course, Edmund greatly appreciates it and loves him just as much back.
He’s a heartless bastard.
Literally.
Mouri’s not being dramatic here, for it’s true that Edmund does not possess a heart. If one were to rest their hand across his stitched up torso, they would only feel a flat line of silence. There’s no pulse, no faint rhythm of beats, no anything.
Nothing at all.
And yet somehow, by some miracle, he’d managed to captivate Edmund’s undead and nonexistent heart. It all started with an impulsive kiss on his end, desperate and teary-eyed after months of yearning, followed by even more months of emotional turmoil before they could officially agree that yes, they should do a test trial with dating and see where it leads them.
Now, Mouri‘s not exactly dating material, but neither is Edmund and he even stated so himself a few times already because he’s a literal soul-sucking demon. They’ll mutually fumble with this whole romance ordeal, but it’s fine because it just goes to show that there are equal efforts from both sides, even if clumsy and amateur-ish.
None of that will faze Mouri from continuing to try either. Not anymore, not after all they’ve been through. He’d almost lost Edmund once, he’s not going to lose him again. The chances of a person reciprocating any romantic feelings back are slim too and for Bubblecorns, life can be a dull eternity. You only live forever, with a few exceptions aside, and you might as well make the best of it by making what apparently seems to be the most unwise choices out there.
Not that he regrets being with Edmund.
Sure, it’s not easy, being with an asshole such as himself, but they’ve been going steady for a few years now and Mouri will be damned if Edmund isn’t his asshole. He can be as much of a dick as he wants, and though that was what sparked some heated animosity between them long ago, nowadays Mouri will gladly take it - literally and figuratively.
“I don’t understand why flowers are a thing,” Mouri admits one night, as he’s snuggled into Edmund’s naked torso after a sore and thorough fuck. They’re pressed up against each other in the warmth of their shared bed, with his head leaning against the crook of his collarbone. “Like, for couples and all that shit. Even you bring them to me, but sometimes I have to wonder why and what’s the point? They’ll wilt and die in a week anyway, they never last.”
One of his fingers can be found tracing up the plane of Edmund’s green neck, lazily grazing the area with the most stitches.
At that, Edmund tilts his head to the side, in mild curiosity. “I’m not quite sure. That raises a valid point.” He pauses, a thoughtful hum sounding from him. “I suppose it’s because we all are typically expected to live in the moment. If it’s beautiful right now, and that’s what flowers are, they can be seen as a symbol of love, then perhaps that’s all that matters.” Then, in a more quiet murmur, he questions, “Would you like for me to stop bringing you flowers on special occasions? Is that what you’d prefer?”
“What? No.” Mouri frowns. “Just because I think it’s stupid doesn’t mean that I don’t like it. I’ll like them if it’s from you.” He buries his nose into Edmund’s shoulder as he adds, with a bit of a muffle, “And shut up, by the way.”
With a touch of amusement softening his features, Edmund chuckles, his voice vibrating with rich dark tones. “I haven’t even said anything.”
“I know, but you were going to.” A little pout tugs at the corners of his lips. “You had that look on your face.”
“That look?”
“Yeah, that look.”
“What look after you referring to, exactly?”
Mouri is aware that Edmund‘s humored by this conversation, and he should know better than to let it stretch out, but he does anyway because they both know that he doesn’t really hate any of this.
“You can be loud without actually being loud. Your eyes give you away, you can’t hide crap with them.” Then, gently, he can’t help but confess, while feeling the heat of his own flustered reaction rushing up to his neck. “You know I love you, so of course I’m gonna like getting flowers from you. Doesn’t matter if it’s a bullshit thing to do.”
Then, he feels Edmund’s arms circling around him, hugging him even closer, as he whispers, low and hushed for him to hear, “I love you too.”
And he always echoes this back with such sincerity, with such heartfelt emotion.
The next time they go on a date, this time it’s Mouri that’s the one to bring a bouquet of flowers for Edmund, just to show his own symbol of love for him. It’s cheesy as all hell, and it makes him feel weird, but fuck it.
Sometimes he has to show that Edmund is special somehow.
Because he is special.
For Mouri wouldn’t be buying any goddamn fancy weeds for anyone else, that’s for sure.
Their relationship continues to thrive and stand strong for a solid several years after that. And when they eventually bear a child later on down the road, his name is Atticus and he will prove to be the most adorable being in existence. He has his pale blue complexion, but also Edmund’s teeth whenever he smiles and Mouri can’t help but swell with pride at that.
They don’t have to lead simple and normal lives to be okay. That’s not who they are and what they do. But instead, they’ve come to accept the strange and the complicated. They’ve embraced living life on difficulty mode, for that’s how they’ve managed to grow closer in the first place, and at the moment, they’re both pretty damn satisfied with the results that their struggles have brought them.
Mouri wouldn’t have it any other way.