A Decade Past (Yellow, Goh/Taki)

The key turned easily in the lock, an action so common to Goh that it barely required thought. The door opened to his apartment – their apartment, the same one they’d shared for over a decade. It was more than an apartment. Originally just a place to live – a small shared space that housed their equipment, now it was a haven, a place of relaxation and a haven from the constant battles of the outside world. This was his home, more than any other place he’d ever lived. Goh’d give his life to protect this small space and the man who shared it with him.

He dropped his keyring by the door, not bothering to muffle the sound the metal made as it hit the wooden table. Taki already knew he was home, just from the sound of the door opening and the hour, but it didn’t hurt to add a little extra warning. Taki really did not like it when Goh snuck up on him.

“I’m back,” Goh called cheerfully. The smell of food filled the apartment, reminding him of the old sitcoms he had watched as a kid – the ones where the husband always came home from work to a hot, homemade dinner and a loving wife. His reality was different in a lot of ways from that idealized image, but for Goh it was close enough.

Taki would kill him if he knew Goh thought of Taki as his wife.

Shrugging off his coat, Goh pulled a hangar from the closet and hung his coat next to one of Taki’s. His shoes were toed off before he stepped out of the recessed entranceway. He bent down out of forced habit to neatly arrange his shoes against the wall. There were some things, he’d learned, that Taki was quite fastidious about.