The sun was beginning to dip, casting a soft amber glow across the garden. The light filtered through leaves, scattering patterns across the stone path where Katsuki and {{user}} sat side by side. The flowerbeds around them overflowed with color—peonies, dahlias, and delicate stalks of lavender swaying gently in the breeze.

Katsuki leaned back on his hands, letting the warmth of the stone seep into his palms. “You’re really calm today,” {{user}} said, your voice low, careful not to break the stillness completely. You glanced sideways, catching a glimpse of his profile.

He grunted softly. “Garden’s nice. Smells good. Feels… simple.”

That made you smile. “Didn’t peg you for the flower-watching type.”

He smirked, lips twitching. “Don’t tell anyone.”

They fell into silence again, but this time, it felt more charged. The air between them held something unsaid, something that buzzed faintly beneath the surface—like the tension before a summer storm.

Then Katsuki spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. “There’s this song. ‘The Flower Garden.’ By Joe Hisaishi.”

{{user}} blinked, surprised by the sudden change in topic. “Yeah, I know it. From Howl’s Moving Castle, right?”

He nodded once. “Been listening to it lately.”

You tilted your head, “Didn’t think you were into that kind of music.”

“I want that to be my wedding song,” he said suddenly. The confession landed gently, but firmly, between them.

You blinked. “Wait—seriously?”

He turned his head, finally meeting your eyes. “Yeah.”

There was a flicker of something in his expression—vulnerability, maybe. Hope, carefully hidden behind the usual guarded edge.

You searched his face. “Why that song? Why are you thinking about weeding songs?”

He hesitated.

“Because I thought you’d be the bride.”

The world around them stilled. Even the breeze seemed to hold its breath.

Katsuki didn’t look at you, his jaw tense now, like the words had cost him more than he’d expected. Then he added, quieter this time:

“Gotta figure out if you like it too.”