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Fuma sighs as he steps out of the bathroom after a hot shower, feeling refreshed after a long day and ready to face the mildly disastrous state of the apartment. Ready to finally clean up, tackle the dishes and do his best to take care of his boyfriend.
A soft, pained moan from the couch calls his attention and he turns to look at Kento, curled up into a ball with his blankets in a corner of the couch. There are glasses and mugs and plates with half eaten toast and fruit next to him on the table, opened magazines and his phone lies abandoned next to a jar of pills.
”Hey. Are you okay?” Fuma asks, slowly walking over to the couch and sitting down on the edge. ”No.” The ball of boyfriend and blankets mumble, and Fuma reaches out to pet the mess of black hair he can see.
”Can I do something?” He asks, because he really feels helpless in situations like this.
Slowly, Kento looks up, face emerging from the blanket and his skin is pale and eyes glossy and Fuma’s heart hurts.
”Hug me? Maybe?” He asks, voice a little desperate and Fuma holds out his arms in invitation.
Kento makes a small hopeless sound and crawls into Fuma’s open arms, and Fuma holds him close, resting his chin on top of Kento’s head.
Fuma’s never been the type of person to stress. He figures things will happen no matter what and thinking too hard about them won't help. But Kento is different. He can’t let things go even if he wants to, stays awake thinking about things that have been or will happen, tries puzzling so many things together Fuma doesn’t even know how he remembers them.
Usually, Kento’s stress resistance amazes him. He can easily work 10 hours in one day, then meet some friend and then go grocery shopping and then visit his mom and then be home at 11 pm just to wake up at five, and repeat that several days in a row. He keeps track of everyone’s schedules, remembers everyone’s name and birthdays and girlsfriends even if they’re just variety filming staff. And so, Fuma usually just accepts that Kento is amazing and Fuma can never be like that.
But then, sometimes, when things get extra rough, Kento crashes.
The first time it happened Fuma was terrified, almost ready to call an ambulance, but Kento told him it was fine. He’d come home, slumped down against the door, shaking all over in cold sweat and then burst out crying and Fuma felt completely helpless.
Now, at least he knows what’s going on. There’s a physical breakdown and then Kento’s body is incapable of just about anything, headache and stomachache and no energy, barely enough to stand up.
Fuma hates it, because it means Kento has driven himself past his limit, again, and there’s nothing Fuma can do when it happens. He tries to keep up with the signs, prevent Kento from doing too much and trying too hard, but sometimes, he doesn’t see it in time. Now is one of those times.
”I think I’m dying Fuma.” Kento mumbles into his sternum, voice small and Fuma hugs him tighter. “Please remember me and how much I loved you.”
”No you’re not dying. You will get better.” Fuma tells him, and Kento whines softly. ”I promise.”
It might take a couple days, but Kento will recover. And if Fuma’s going to have to fight off managers to make sure Kento gets those days, he will.
”You'll have to keep loving me for a while longer.” He says softly, and Kento cuddles an impossible bit closer.
“Forever.” He mumbles, and Fuma smiles.
~*~