Archive of Our Own

The first time Yatora shows up to college all beat up after a fight, no one actually notices. He’s good at pretending, painting a fake smile for as long as needed; he had years of high school to master his acting. After all, even if he didn't pretend, not many people would care anyways. And, of course, his clothes hide most of the bruises and cuts. Only a large cut on his cheek, covered by a cotton square, which he quickly brushed off by saying he tripped in the bathroom; just a little white lie everyone believes. 

Everyone but one person. 

Yotasuke is usually oblivious, but he can be very assertive when it comes to Yatora. Like how his smile doesn't reach his eyes when Murai asks him to go for drinks at the end of the day. Or how he flinches a little when he hangs the tote bag on his shoulder, a small displeased gesture that Yotasuke doesn't like to see in him, at all. 

But he stays quiet, too scared to push a button that he shouldn't, too scared of a real reaction. When they walk together in silence towards the subway station, it is not as comfortable as it usually is. Yatora doesn't seem to mind; he doesn't seem to notice, too caught in his own thoughts, too tired maybe. Yotasuke hates it. He doesn't dare say it out loud. 

"You look exhausted," he finally murmurs, looking up front, feeling Yatora's glance on his side. 

The tallest reaches a little closer, holds his pinky finger with his own, after a quick glance of their surroundings. He sighs. 

"I went out drinking with friends. Didn't get much sleep…" 

Yotasuke hums, his finger clenching around Yatora's, he still doesn't dare look up at him. 

"You were weirder than usual today," he adds shortly, stopping before a crossroad. 

Yatora hums absentmindedly. A red car flashes in front of them at high speed, just before the light turns red. Then, they keep on walking slowly. Yatora moves their hands, holds Yotasuke's in a strong grip, fingers intertwined. They don't talk again for the rest of the way. 

Yotasuke stays quiet. He's never felt the words burning inside his throat like today. It bubbles up like water boiling, and he can't seem to let them out either way, almost as if keeping them in would hurt less than saying them. He doubts it, because it feels like drowning with his own breathing. 

He stays quiet. Even if it hurts now, a reaction from Yatora could hurt more . Because he spent too many years trying to escape from a manipulative relationship, and the possibility of realizing that Yatora is no different from her, would destroy him. 

He stays quiet, terrified to take a chance. 

Even when Yatora leans down slowly, to leave a short peck on his temple. Even when the smile he gives him doesn't reach his eyes, again. And when their fingers let go of the other slowly. When Yatora laughs quietly and leans in once again, to leave another goodbye kiss, on his flushed cheek this time. When he whispers a soft Goodnight against his raven hair, and when Yotasuke says it back. Even when Yatora starts to walk away from him, for the night or for who knows how long. 

He stays quiet. Why is he giving this silly issue so much importance?

The second time he shows up to school after a fight, he can tell everyone is itching to ask a question, but no one dares to. Purple and yellow paint his right cheekbone all the way up to the side of his nose, and there's a blue band-aid right under the bruise with a small blood stain still on it. He can feel Yotasuke's eyes on him all through the day, but he only says something when they sit for lunch, just the two of them. 

"You shouldn't have fought that guy," he murmurs, his eyes stare emptily into his food. "We could have just left." He gives a quick glance up, with a piece of pork in the chopsticks on it's way to his mouth.  

Yatora gives him a look, and he is sure he has been stared at like this since the first words he left out. There's disbelief in his eyes, as if Yotasuke's words had hit him in the face, the same way he got hit two nights ago. There's also a small glimmer of pain in his eyes, although maybe it's just the usual shine that Yotasuke sees in his boyfriend's eyes. He can't really tell right now. 

"Yotasuke," he starts, sharply. It’s odd when he uses his full name instead of a nickname. Yotasuke shivers slightly. "He said… horrible things to you, and he punched me first!" His voice is not more than a whisper, but the words come out harshly. 

"You knocked him out!" Yotasuke whispers back, alarmed. "I didn't know you could be so violent." His voice comes out more disappointed than angry, but the bite of his words is still there. 

"I was just trying to protect you," Yatora hisses quietly. 

Yotasuke shrinks a little more in his seat. "I'm just saying."

Yatora notices how his mood switches in an instant,.If he was down before, now he is downright sad. Idiot . He sighs, presses his fingers on his forehead, curses himself a little under his breath. Then he stretches a hand over the table, palm up, and waits until Yotasuke decides to glance at it, then at him. Yatora gives him a smile, shaky and rough on the edges, eyes closed gently for a second. He stares at Yotasuke for one, two, three seconds too long. Yotasuke sighs quietly in response, as he places his hand over Yatora's. He pulls his fingers, and closes his hand around Yotasuke's, gently.  

"Hey, I'm sorry," he starts, voice not more than a whisper, his thumb brushes slow circles on his boyfriend's hand. "I don't like fighting either, you know that, I just…" 

He sighs again, "I know," he toys with the rice in his bento, with his free hand. "But I don't like you doing those kinds of things, for me." 

Yatora smiles, finding the perfect opening to tease him. "Aww, you don't want me getting hurt," he pouts cutely. 

Yotasuke huffs, as the heat creeps up to the tip of his ears and all through his cheeks. He looks to the side, away from that sunshine smile and sunshine eyes. 

"I don't like it when you don't smile honestly," he mumbles. 

Yatora feels the real smile bubble up, paint itself on his lips. It drizzles inside him, like shaking a bottle of soda, and it blows up shortly, in just an instant. Pop . He feels his face stretch up, only one of his eyes closed in an eye smile. 

"Hey," he calls, Yotasuke turns to him after a second, "I'm smiling for real right now." 

Yotasuke chuckles, the smile switching up his expression in an instant. He looks at Yatora shilly, presses their fingers a little more. 

"There he is," Yatora whispers happily. 

That smile is everything that matters, Yotasuke's smile is worth fighting for. 

Yatora likes to laugh until his stomach hurts, Yuka is a really funny person now that he has gotten to know them for real. Her girlfriend too laughs loudly at the crazy story she is narrating. The three of them walk outside the karaoke, Yuka holds their girlfriend's hand in the air as she explains the rest of the story loudly. 

"...And then he smashes the elephant on the floor!" She motions their hands for dramatism. 

Yatora laughs loudly, his body bending over as he struggles to breathe properly. 

"His mom was spitting fire by now…" 

A strange voice cuts in, a man pops up from a near alley, stumbling his steps towards them. 

"Where are you going so late, beauties?" it sounds sloppy and hissed. 

Yatora pops up from behind the couple, to look at the man with disgust. He glances at Yuka for a second, she holds onto their girlfriend, Akane, a little more strongly. He takes a step forward, tries to shield the two of them from the man that approaches unsteadily. 

"We’re going home," Yatora says strongly. "Excuse us." 

"Oh? I see you have company," he laughs awfully as the trio walks slowly past him, "enjoy your night, boy." He winks at Yatora and stumbles towards him, he tries to pat the younger's shoulder playfully. Yatora slaps his hand away before it touches him. 

"I said excuse us, we’re leaving." 

"Yatora, don't start something again," Yuka hisses carefully. 

He glances back at the man, who mumbles to himself and takes a long gulp from the bottle in his hand, he faces the opposite direction as them. 

"We’re leaving," he whispers towards the two. 

They walk away from that street, take a few turns more than necessary, fast paced towards the subway. They breathe heavily, not only because of the tiredness of a long night. They stay silent for a long time. 

"Yaguchi–san, how’s your shoulder?" Akane tries to break the extremely tense aura that formed around them. "Does it still feel sore?" 

"Not really, it only hurts if I touch it too hard, or when I put my bag over it" He unconsciously pulls at the hangs of his tote bag. "My dad helped me massage it the other day, so it's much better." 

"That's good!" She smiles honestly, kindly. Yatora smiles too, like a reflection. 

"Be careful tho' Yatora," Yuka adds seriously. "You wouldn't want your boy hurting you during a nice moment." Their tone is so tense that Yatora almost believes for a moment that she is truly concerned. Almost . 

Akane breaks into laughter first. It's light-hearted and sweet, bubbling up like sparkling water and filling the air almost as much as her cherry blossoms perfume. Yuka tries to keep her face straight while still looking at Yatora, they last a good five seconds before the laughter starts to burst out of them too. 

"Yeah, really fucking funny," Yatora scoffs. His frown gets deeper, when the blood starts to rush up to his face.

Their laughter doesn't die down for at least another block, he doesn't really mind though. He hadn't seen Yuka so happy in a while and Akane is really good. He smiles at them from the side. The conversation transitions quickly after, and the three arrive at the subway station in the middle of a heated discussion over their personal styles, and how much Yuka insists Yatora can still do better. 

Yatora scoffs at the picture in Yuka's phone that she shoves into his face. "You buy that for me, and I'll wear it even in summer," he jokes as he looks away from the screen. 

Yuka clicks their tongue, her tone switches, something more excited. "Alright, bet." 

"You are broke , my friend," Yatora speaks dramatically, as he walks backwards towards a vending machine. 

Akane giggles next to her girlfriend. "It's true," Yatora hears her defend herself, when he turns around to look at the wide variety of cold drinks.  

Two guys walk past him, as he crouches down to pick the bottle of lemonade he just bought. He hears them laugh dumbly as they stand near the tracks, a few steps away from his friends. He takes a long gulp from his drink and the guys get closer to the girls. 

"Hello girls," one talks first, he pulls the hoodie off of his head. "Would you like some company?" Yatora can almost see the proud smirk. 

He laughs quietly at the look Akane gives them, so disgusted. Yuka leans from behind her, talks softly. 

"No, thanks, we're going home." She turns away right then. 

"Oh, come on," the other guy signs disappointedly, Yatora hears the smile in the stranger's voice. "It's still so early, let me and my friend buy you girls something to drink." 

He leans a little closer. His feet don't move even a bit, but Akane leans away all the same, falling closer to Yuka. 

"We’re fine, we need to go home now," Akane whispers this time, her voice a little shaky. 

A lady's gentle voice speaks through the station speakers, 'The train will arrive in fifteen minutes'. Yatora takes another sip from his drink, tosses the bottle inside his bag right after. 

"My girlfriend and I would really appreciate it if you guys could leave us alone now," Yuka talks firmly. 

Yatora's eyes open widely, Yuka really said that; he hears a curious hum, it makes him alert. Why is he still standing here?

"So, your girlfriend?" The guys look at each other for two seconds. Idiotic smiles plastered on their faces. 

Yatora clenches his jaw. Move, move, move, move.  

"Would you do us a favour, beauties?" The one in the hoodie says, the other one laughs shortly. 

Yatora starts to walk towards his friends. 

"I don't think so," Yuka whispers sharply. 

The second guy takes a step closer. 

"Come on," he whispers in a tone that tries to be slick, "my friend and I would like to see you two kiss," he licks his lips. 

Disgusting.  

"Excuse me?" Akane blurts out. 

"Just a little show for us, huh?" He raises only one of his eyebrows. 

"What the fuck did you say to them?" Yatora steps in between them quickly; he shields the girls behind his body, which makes them take a step back. 

"We are talking with the ladies," the guy in front of him smiles through clenched teeth.

The smell of alcohol scapes his mouth almost like a cloud, Yaguchi scrunches his nose in disgust. 

"The ladies are not interested, get the fuck away from my friends," Yatora spits. 

"Yaguchi–san…" Akane whispers cautiously, she places her hand on his shoulder softly. 

He gives the couple a quick glance, the fear dances in their eyes, Akane's eyes are red and teary. He takes a deep breath. 

"Listen, we don't want trouble, just leave them alone, please."

"Get out of the way, or I'll make you, Yaguchi–kun. " the second guy clenches Yatora's shirt into his fist. 

He stares down at it, clicks his tongue. He raises his head back slowly, stares through his lashes at the idiot in front of him. 

"Make me."

The next thing he knows is that he is flat on the ground, with a burning pain on his left cheek; a punch to his guts makes him stumble back, as he tries to get up. He hears Yuka scream his name. The second guy grips his shoulder, hard, to keep him steady as he throws a couple more punches on his side. Akane screams his name too, she called him Yatora , he almost wants to smile. 

He releases himself from the shoulder grip, punching the guy off of him; throws a few punches back, his knuckles burn after hitting a nose and he feels blood slipping through his fingers. Is it mine or theirs? One of the guys pushes him to the ground again, he gets kicked a few times. The guy he punched in the nose lays flat on the ground for a few seconds.

"Yuka, leave, now!" he manages to spit out, his arms covering his head in panic. 

The train's vibrations start to approach fast, the tunnel gets illuminated in an instant. He still shakes by himself. 

"Idiot!, we’re not–" 

"Hey, what's going on over there?" a security guard starts to sprint, from a distant hall. 

The train stops across from them. 

"Leave!" Yatora says again, lifting half of his body. 

The guy punches him again. His nose starts bleeding, the back of his head bounces against the concrete. He hears heals hitting the ground as if they were stepping on his head, then they fade away slowly. He doesn't feel like he’s blinking. His body jumps as he receives a last couple of kicks to his stomach; he coughs, as the two guys run away from him. He lays on his side, gasping loudly for some air, his throat feels like hellfire, and his lungs burn. He thinks about that time he nearly drowned in the swimming pool, when he was seven. I'm not underwater. His head spins, or maybe the room is the one turning round and round. He manages to sit up somehow, after what feels like an hour, his body disagreeing with his movements. He feels like throwing up when he finally manages to stand, and his bag feels heavier than usual. His shoulder had just started to feel better. Shit…

Another train arrives soon enough, just as he realizes he can't open his left eye, there's blood slipping down from his eyebrow. There's only a few other people in the 4 A.M. train, mostly men around his dad's age, construction workers; they look at him curiously. Yatora presses his hand against his nostrils through the whole ride. 

Yotasuke wakes up because of a constant and annoying sound. His phone lights up the dark room with a white-ish blue light, and the default ringtone fills the silence. He frowns at it, picks up without checking the screen. 

"Why?" Is what he says first, voice husky and tired. 

He hears a tired chuckle on the other side, he frowns more. 

"Sorry Suke, can you open the door for me?" Yatora says slowly. 

Yotasuke tilts his head to the side, he responds with a dry hum, as he pulls the sheets out and gets up. The entrance light turns on automatically, and his tired eyes squint to type the numbers on the door lock. 

"I should just give you the code already," he mumbles, as he pulls the door. 

He gasps when looking up at his boyfriend, eyes widened and lips parted for three seconds too long. Yatora smiles softly at him, pain written all over his face. His left eye is red, so swollen that he can barely open it, the cut on his cheek is open again and there's blood spilling from somewhere under his hair, the right side of his undercut tinted crimson instead of blonde. 

"What happened?" He gets closer, his hands reach up to his face, but without touching it, shaking. He doesn't want to hurt Yatora. He feels his eyes sting with tears. 

"I'll be fine, I promise," Yatora holds Yotasuke's hands mid air, kisses them softly. The cut on his lip burns at the contact, but he hides the pain behind an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't wanna scare Mom." 

Yotasuke lets out a shaky breath, nods his head to himself, "Y-you can stay." 

He steps aside so Yatora can go in. He drops his bag after two steps and takes his shoes off, messily; lets out a relieved sigh when the bag is off his shoulder. 

"Pardon the intrusion," he sing-songs quietly. 

Yotasuke sees dirt on the back of his shirt, more blood that drips from his neck onto the collar of his button up. He gulps. 

"Do you…" he starts quietly, while pushing the door close behind him. Yatora turns his head to him, Yotasuke lowers his head, looks away. "Do y-you wanna take a shower?" 

Yatora feels warm all over his face in an instant, he hopes Yotasuke doesn't notice. He starts to scratch the back of his head nervously. 

"I don't want to bother." He feels the blood on his fingers, warm and sticky, he pulls his hand away. 

"If you’re going to stay…" Yotasuke starts, his face as red as Yatora's. "You can't stay dirty all night." 

"Suke–" 

"I'll find you something to wear," Yotasuke yelps, then sprints towards his bedroom. 

Yatora laughs quietly as he makes his way to the small bathroom. Yotasuke finally bought the shower curtain he wanted, white, thin blue and yellow stripes. Yatora's fingers shake as he unbuttons his seafoam green shirt. It stings when the fabric grazes the skin of his torso, and down his arms. 

His eyes sting too. 

Yotasuke struggles for a while to find the hoodie he borrowed from his boyfriend a while back; it’s the only thing in his closet that would fit him, he is sure he hasn't returned it yet. He would pretty much like to not give it back. It smells like him, even after weeks of using it, and it's the only thing that keeps him safe from the loneliness that claws at him at night. 

He finally gets the yellow hoodie, from the bottom of his drawers, so he takes it to Yatora, along with a pair of grey sport shorts. 

Yatora stays still under the showerhead, almost hypnotized, looking at the blood spiraling down the drain; his toes try not to touch it, but without moving much. The warm water relaxes his tired muscles and beaten skin. His eyes fall shut, as words repeat in his head like a broken record, voices, and screaming; he imagines a million different things he could have done differently. He imagines himself still on that dirty platform, maybe with more wounds, more blood. 

He wonders if Yuka and Akane are alright, he didn't even check his phone on his way here. He really should text his mom. 

A knock on the door pulls him back to reality, he jumps in his spot and looks around nervously, then laughs quietly at himself. He can't differentiate between the tears and the shower water. He pushes the hair off of his face, shaking fingers and open wounds, clenching. 

"You can come in," he says, barely loud enough. 

The door opens slowly. Yatora focuses on reading the ingredients on the shampoo, as he hears Yotasuke rustle stuff at the other side of the plastic curtain. 

"Suke I–" He starts, although not really sure of what it is he wants to say. He sighs. "I forgot to ask if you have band-aids and stuff..." 

Idiot. 

"Yeah, I got some." A lot, actually. 

Yatora can almost hear him, fidgeting his fingers close to his chest. He smiles faintly, looking at the silhouette of his boyfriend. 

"Thank you." 

Yotasuke closes the door quietly.

Yatora finds his dirty clothes gone, when he steps out of the shower. He smiles at his yellow hoodie, that sits neatly folded over the toilet seat, along with grey sport shorts. He had been wondering where he had forgotten that. It smells like home, when he slides it over his head.  

His hair falls behind his ears, it lets down drips of water to fall on his shoulders and inside of his clothes. His back is stone cold. He pulls it away from his face a few times, as he leads himself towards the tiny living room. He drops himself on the couch, with a loud thud and a tired sigh. He hears water running from behind him, then stopping. He tilts his head to the side, Yotasuke searches for something in the cramped kitchen, he stretches up impossibly to get something from a high cabinet; he giggles quietly at his boyfriend. 

Yatora turns his head back, his eyes focus on the clear wavy white curtains, the breeze coming from the small open gap of the window makes it dance slowly. Then, a small figure stands in between him and the dancing curtains, he blinks to recover the focus in his eyes. He smiles faintly at blue eyes and night dark lashes. Yotasuke bites the inside of his cheeks nervously. Yatora raises a hand to brush soft fingers through his arms, under the fabric of his oversized sleeping shirt; Yotasuke relaxes a little under his touch. His eyes scan all over Yatora's face, he mumbles stuff to himself. 

"There's nothing in other places?" Yotasuke asks suddenly, still standing. The first aid kit rests on both of his hands, his thumbs drumming on the sides of it. Yatora makes a questioning face. "You... put the hoodie on, so I thought, that means there aren't any cuts other than on your face, right?" 

A soft hum, "Just bruises, on my side."  

Yotasuke makes an awful expression in response, something between empathy and sorrow, with a pinch of nervousness. 

Yatora doesn't like that expression. 

"I have something for that too, I think…" He finally sits down, opens the little plastic box and starts searching.  

Yatora pulls his hand away, more to not bother him as he looks for what he needs. His eyes travel around Yotasuke, searching for something, although not sure what exactly. His expression is serious, brows furrowed down strongly, but it's not actually different from his most common expression during any other day. Although, there's a glimpse of something odd in his eyes. Discomfort, maybe. 

"Here," Yotasuke whispers, looking up at Yatora, a little cream tube in between his fingers. 

Yatora lifts the hoodie to his neck, quietly; then Yotasuke rubs the cream gently over the bruises, and the blue paste starts to dissolve into the red and purple skin. His fingers move slowly, scared perhaps, they shake slightly. Yotasuke bites the inside of his cheek when he is concentrating, just like right now. 

"Does it hurt?" Yotasuke says, almost only to himself. 

His fingers stop moving for a second, when the cream is completely on Yatora's skin. He caresses the red sides, slowly, skin ghosting against skin. His eyes follow his movements, careful not to touch the older bruises, the ones that probably hurt more. 

"Not anymore." Yatora lets out in a breath, he looks directly into Yotasuke's blue eyes, his breathing shakes. "Not really." 

Yotasuke lifts his head, the sea meets the sun, their gazes intertwine. Yatora drops his hand, the yellow fabric covers his torso again. 

"And your eye?" 

"That one hurts more.”

Yotasuke puts more cream on his point finger, he leans closer to Yatora, sits on his heels to be higher. He rubs gently over his eyelid, under his eyebrow, over his cheekbone. He starts to bite the inside of his cheek again, careful. 

"Your soap smells nice, Suke," Yatora whispers out of nowhere. His voice is like warm honey. "Thank you." 

His hand ghosts over Yotasuke's right arm that rests on his side; he feels flushed skin under his cold fingers. 

Yotasuke stops rubbing his finger on his eye, sits back down and pulls some other stuff from the little box. Yatora follows his movements with his eyes, as he starts to put alcohol in a little cotton ball. 

"You had dirt on your back, earlier…" his voice has turned lower, as if he was trying to cover something. 

Yatora wants to laugh, he is the one that should be hiding stuff, not Yotasuke. 

"When these guys punched me, I ended up on the ground," he mumbles. His free hand scratches his cheek, nervously. "That's how I hit the back of my head, too." 

"What happened, Yatora?" He stops for a second, hand mid air, with the drenched cotton ball between his fingers; eyes locked on his boyfriend. "Why were you fighting again?" 

He shakes his head then, as if to dismiss what he said, or to show that he doesn't want to hear the answer. 

Yatora hisses when the cotton ball touches his teared skin, his nose scrunches and his left eye closes a bit more.  

"Sorry." Yotasuke says under his breath, a painful expression pointed back at his boyfriend. 

Yatora sighs, he’s not good at hiding anything from his boyfriend. Yotasuke puts a bright red band-aid across his eyebrow. 

"I was out with Yuka and their girlfriend," he starts to explain after two seconds. 

Yotasuke looks at him for just a moment, to indicate he will listen, as he unwraps an apple green band-aid now. 

"These two guys approached them at the subway platform, I was just three meters away," he looks down, even when Yotasuke puts his hands on his face. "They said some disgusting stuff, first it was just about going with the girls somewhere, but then…" 

He feels his eyes sting. His hand holds Yotasuke tighter, he feels a hand over his own then. He bites his lips. 

"Then Yuka told them they were together, you know?" He hears a soft hum. "And they just… 

Yatora feels his chest tightening. Yotasuke squishes his hand between his own again, it is not odd for Yatora to leave sentences mid-way, somehow he always understands him now. 

"I felt so angry, I felt like crimson red and my eyes were burning and I…" he clenches his teeth, outraged by the thought. "I wanted to hurt them so bad, and when they provoked me…" 

He lets out a sob, this isn't him . He would protect his friends, the ones he loves, Yotasuke , from anyone and anything; but this isn't him. He hates to fight. He hates losing. Not because he is proud, or stubborn, or a delinquent who enjoys violence. But because, he hates to fight for what is right and get beaten up. It feels like he looses not just a fight, but the right to believe in something, as if he lost his ideals. They were taken away from him, beaten out of him, and he couldn't even fight back. 

"Sometimes I wish I had been born as someone else." The tears coming out of his eyes feel too cold. "I said I was going to protect my friends and look at how that worked out for me," he jokes cynically. 

Yotasuke clenches his fingers around Yatora's. His lips tighten, as he feels the tears clouding his eyes too; he sighs loudly, with no control of his body. Then, the tears start to stream down his face. He tries to suck them in, sniffles, one, two, three times; he lets go of Yatora slowly. He finishes unwrapping a band-aid, the tears fall on his hand as he takes out the sticking paper, his fingers tremble. 

A failure. Yatora feels like a failure. Fuck, he feels like shit . 

Yotasuke looks at him for an instant, Yatora looks at him too. He licks the tears off of his lips, his fingers tremble as he puts a band-aid over his nose bridge. His eyes are already tired and flooded , his nose and cheeks flushed bright red. He finally gets the band-aid straight over his nose, and looks right back down. A quiet sobs scapes his lips. 

Yatora feels like an asshole. 

He feels bad for coming here, at four in the fucking morning, waking his boyfriend up on a Saturday; for worrying him with his problems. For making him cry . 

"Suke," he calls softly. 

Yotasuke sniffles, still looking down, as he unsuccessfully tries to unwrap another band-aid. Yatora leans a bit closer, but his boyfriend avoids him, leaning to the opposite side of the couch. Yatora stretches a hand then, to cup his cheek gently; his thumb brushes off a tear from under his eye. Yotasuke falls stiff, eyes stuck on his trembling hands. 

"Suke, I'm sorry, please don't cry," he leans in closer, whispers the words on his face. 

"Idiot… what are you apologizing for?" Yotasuke exhales sharply. 

"I hate to see you cry," he says, not really answering to what his boyfriend said. He still brushes his fingers softly on his cheeks. 

"You’re an idiot, you know that?" Yotasuke breathes out. 

He hums. "You tell me quite often, yeah." A dumb smile is painted across his broken lip. 

His hand lowers from Yotasuke's face, and to his neck. His thumb presses softly under his earlobe. 

Yotasuke rolls his eyes. "You are an idiot, for fighting people bigger than you," he sniffles angrily. 

"They weren't bigger than me, but they were fast, and they were two, 'am only me." Yatora still searches for Yotasuke's look. 

"You have to be more careful, dumbass," he finally gets to unwrap the band-aid, he looks up at Yatora. "Lift your chin." He puts the band-aid somewhere across the left side of his jawline.

Yatora hadn't even noticed there was a cut there. He really got fucked up. He unconsciously starts to rub his finger over the band-aid that's on his chin. 

"I know you’re not fighting just because." He grabs the hand Yatora had on his neck, starts cleaning his knuckles with a new alcohol drenched cotton ball. "But you are also being impulsive, and way too confident," he does the same with his other hand then, leaving them over his lap after he is done. "You’re not super strong, and you’re not the tallest, nor the fastest." 

" You are being way too cocky right now," Yatora scoffs, clicks his tongue. 

Yotasuke looks at him from under his eyebrows. Yatora realizes how stupid his response was then, he presses his lips shut together, eyes drifting away slightly from Yotasuke's. 

"I worry about you, but all you do is keep getting hurt," he slaps some bandaids across Yatora's knuckles, a bit too harshly. "Acting as if you were immortal, which you aren't." He finishes and starts to put things back into the orange first-aid kit. "You are gonna make me sick, I feel like throwing up every time you… even now." He makes a pained expression. His hand clenches over his chest. "If you show up, all beaten and cut every time I see you…" 

He feels new tears cloud his eyes.

"I worry about you, I think more than you worry about yourself, more than I worry about myself. " His voice comes out shaky this time, a little rough on the edges. 

"Suke…" 

He looks up at Yatora. There's something broken, he can feel it inside; he doesn't know how to fix it. Maybe Yatora can do it for him, he always wants to be of help. His teary eyes stay stuck on the sun. There's now light coming from the window Yotasuke gives his back to. It falls on Yatora, hits his face in weird shapes, it makes his eyes shine brighter on small parts, it makes his tears glossy. Yotasuke cleans his own tears with the collar of his t-shirt. His lips quiver, eyes still on Yatora's. He leans towards his boyfriend with quick movements, Yatora lets out a pained Oof when he lands on top of him, making the both of them fall back on the couch. 

Yotasuke traps Yatora between his arms, tightly around his shoulders. Yatora hugs him back then, arms clenching around his waist, he buries his nose on the side of raven hair. 

"I don't want to lose you, idiot," he whispers to the skin of his neck. 

"I'm not going to leave, Yotasuke." 

He pulls him up then. So that he can look Yotasuke in the eyes, he pulls some strands of hair that fall on his face behind his ear. His fingers stay on his face for a moment or two. The hand around his waist draws circles over the fabric of his navy blue t-shirt. 

He leans up, stops one centimeter away from his boyfriend's face, he sees him close his eyes slowly, exhale anxiously. He smiles lightly. His hand cups his cheek when their lips meet, it's warm and salty. There's still a taste of iron in his mouth, and tears roll down both their faces; it's a strange flavor, but the feeling is just as always. He moves slowly, carefully , Yotasuke hums against his mouth, the sound vibrates inside of his own mouth. The cut stings when Yotasuke starts to kiss back, he lets out a painful hiss, and pulls away just slightly. 

"Sorry," Yotasuke exclaims quickly. 

Yatora shakes his head. "It's alright." He brushes his fingers over his face once more. 

"I wish I could do more, to help you feel better," Yotasuke lowers his head, resting it on his boyfriend's chest. 

"You've done more than enough, Suke," he leaves a deep kiss on his forehead. 

He looks back, stretching his neck a bit too much, at the entrance, remembering something. He clicks his tongue. 

"Hey, could you get my bag, please?" His voice comes out a little unsteady, and maybe a little too quiet. 

"Don't wanna move," Yotasuke growls back. 

"I need to text my mom, and Yuka and Akane," he whispers again. 

"Ok." Yotasuke gets up messily, hair falling on his face more than usual. "Do you wanna go to sleep a bit, after you are done? It's almost five now," he asks as he walks back to the couch. 

"Yes, please," Yatora rises himself up, to sit again, and receive his bag. "I could also text them from your bed," he gets on his feet, standing awkwardly next to his boyfriend. 

"Ok," Yotasuke turns around first, towards the room. 

They lay on his bed naturally, Yotasuke pressing his ear against Yatora's heartbeat. Yatora raises his hands over their heads, the light of the phone the only thing illuminating the room, he quickly types messages for his mother and friend. Yuka replies almost instantly, with a mix of courses, towards him for not giving life signals earlier, and the two idiots that beat his crap; her words. He tells them to say sorry to Akane for him, she says there's nothing to apologize about, then thanks him and says goodnight. 

Yatora leaves his phone aside carefully. He is about to say something, when he notices Yotasuke breathing slowly above his chest, deeply asleep. Yatora wraps his arms around his boyfriend's waist, rests his chin over the crown of his head. He closes his eyes, with the calm of one who can sleep a whole day, and sighs tiredly. 

"Thank you, Suke." The silence of the room is enough response. He falls asleep quickly after. 

He wakes up when the sun is a bit higher up in the sky, with Yotasuke still wrapped between his arms, despite looking quite awake while staring with boredom at his phone screen. The thought that there's nowhere else he'd rather be crosses his mind, as he closes his eyes happily again, for just two seconds. Nobody but himself needs to know that. 

"Good morning, love." His voice comes out a little deeper than usual, tired but happy. 

Yotasuke drops his phone, his elbows pressed on Yatora's chest, he rests his chin on his own hands, a little smile paints his lips. Their gazes intertwine, and the sun meets the ocean, steadily. 

"Good morning."