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The first time he felt slightly nauseous, Keiji brushed it off with no second thought. He had been at university all day, studying and completing assignments until his laptop screen had turned all blurry, but even then he didn’t stop working. It wasn’t that he particularly enjoyed staying in the study rooms all day long––he simply didn’t have a choice on that matter.
He couldn’t focus as much at home as he could at uni, and he was ready to take every chance he had to get his studying done. If that meant leaving the house at eight in the morning and coming home twelve hours later, then so be it. He was willing to sacrifice that, if it meant success in his studies.
Keiji didn’t even know where this sudden ambition came from. It wasn’t like he’d ever strived for the best grades, he simply always did what he had to do. That was different now––he wanted good grades. He needed himself to be successful. To feel successful, instead of being just an imposter, instead of being a mediocre student and mediocre person among people who excelled at what they did.
After a week of hardly being at home and not seeing Koutarou for most of the time, his head started spinning as Keiji took his seat in public transport, and he closed his eyes to stop the sudden bout of nausea that came crashing down on him. There was an uncomfortable swirling feeling in his gut, as if a bunch of rocks were sitting in his stomach, and he swallowed thickly, hoping the feeling would pass soon.
His body had other plans though. More people filed into the wagon he found himself in, and the smell of sweat and the intense heat of being confined in a small space with a bunch of strangers were getting the best of him.
Keiji could feel how sweat was accumulating on his forehead, and he didn’t like it at all. He wiped it away, but noticed that his hands, too, were clammy, and he was shaking. There was hardly any air inside, and he prayed to every god he could think of at that moment that his stop would be announced soon through the intercom.
At least that wish was fulfilled. As soon as Keiji managed to squeeze himself between strangers, stepping on someone’s toes as he did so, followed by a hasty and breathless apology, breathing became a lot easier.
It was a cold night, but the cold was a welcome contrast to the disgusting stickiness of public transport. The nausea still wouldn’t subside, and Keiji forced himself to keep walking until he was home. Once he was able to lie down, he would feel better. He was sure of it. And he wasn’t wrong.
Koutarou didn’t question him as Keiji headed to the shower first, and his boyfriend also didn’t inquire as Keiji flopped down on the bed next to him, exhaustion slowly creeping up onto him as he fell asleep in Koutarou’s strong and safe embrace, his boyfriend’s scent the most comforting thing in the world.
The second time it happened, Keiji was again not home, but picking up groceries instead on his way home from campus. He was all too aware of how he’d been neglecting Koutarou, who was equally busy. Today would be the day he would give Koutarou something in return.
Koutarou had so much to give. So much energy, so much love, so much support––he gave Keiji so much, which often left Keiji to feel as if he wasn’t giving anything in return. It was about time to change that.
The only problem was that, when leaving the grocery store, Keiji was yet again hit with nausea. It came on suddenly, and he was by no means prepared for it. He had walked to the grocery store, because it wasn’t far, and he had been looking forward to being outside for a bit, finally catching some fresh air. The problem was that he really wasn’t sure if he’d be able to make it back home without passing out.
All he could think of was that he desperately needed to sit down, only there wasn’t a bench anywhere and Keiji wasn’t about to sit down on the ground. It didn’t matter how sick he felt, he would not sit down on the floor outside, even though it probably would have been for the best. Had it been Koutarou in his position, Keiji would have urged him to sit down.
But taking care of himself had always been a little more difficult than taking care of Koutarou. It always had been like that.
Gritting his teeth, Keiji forced himself to keep going. It wasn’t far, he could do this. How he ended up doing it, he didn’t know. The walk passed in a blur, and his legs were shaking as he climbed the stairs to their apartment.
When he arrived at home, Koutarou wasn’t there yet, and it was eerily quiet. It was hard to focus on something other than how awful Keiji was feeling, without Koutarou’s lively chatter to fill the empty living room, but somehow, he managed to feel slightly better after a while. Keiji was absolutely fine. Only a little tired. That was all.
At least he felt well enough to put the groceries away and prepare some food. He didn’t have nearly as much time left before his boyfriend would get home, at least not as much as he would have liked, and Keiji was mad that, once again, he wouldn’t be able to reciprocate everything Koutarou was giving him on a daily basis.
But a simple meal was still a meal and a nice gesture, and Keiji knew his boyfriend wouldn’t be disappointed. It was hard to disappoint him in the first place, with how much of an optimistic outlook he had on life.
Keiji still felt horrible, and the nausea returned, only to stay until long after Koutarou had come home and gleefully eaten the food Keiji had made for him. His eyes sparkled like the stars in the night sky, and Keiji focused on that image, smiling to himself. He felt better when Koutarou was around, because he always felt better then. It was hard not to. Despite all that, he didn’t tell Koutarou, lest he worry him, and Keiji couldn’t do that. So he would keep it to himself. It had happened only twice, after all.
It would happen more than twice. And Keiji was really, really starting to hate his body. Whenever he was at uni, he would skip lunch, in the hopes that he would feel better then. Maybe he’d caught a stomach bug and he just needed to wait it out. But he felt bad when he wasn’t eating, exactly like the way he felt when he did have food.
Keiji started to think it was because of the stress, and that his body just needed a break. But his exams were in less than a week, which wasn’t a lot of time. He just had to push through and hope he wouldn’t collapse or get seriously ill.
He could do this. Only it got worse. A week before exams, Akaashi was on the bus to a friend’s place to study together and he felt like passing out completely. It was so hot but also cold, and there was no empty seat so he had to stand when all he really wanted to do was lie down.
If Keiji wasn’t so stubborn as to admit that he was fairly unwell, he would have cancelled his plans. But Keiji was a stubborn student with a clear goal in mind: pass all his courses with flying colours. Only now he didn’t feel like he’d be able to pass his courses when all he could really focus on was not passing out.
He started to fidget with his hands, his right angrily pulling at his left, his knuckles cracking aggressively. It hurt, but Keiji didn’t wince. If he shifted his focus to the pain in his hands, he wouldn’t be able to focus on how sick he felt. And if he didn’t notice how sick he felt, that must mean he was fine.
Many people, Koutarou included, might have described Keiji as incredibly smart, but he could also be incredibly stupid, and Keiji was almost certain that Koutarou would have ushered him home without hesitating a second.
But he forced himself to get out of the train and keep walking. He could do this. All he had to do was walk to his friend’s place, and Keiji was positive that he would feel better after some fresh air. He was right––the walk helped clear his mind and get rid of the mild chills he’d been experiencing, and he was quite capable at pushing the nausea away. He was fine.
By the time he arrived at his friend’s place, he felt perfectly alright again, and he found that he was actually looking forward to studying together. Not only that, but he was also optimistic about feeling well enough to study for a few more hours.
Keiji pressed the doorbell, and he was smiling when his friend let him in. That smile vanished as soon as he sat down at the table and spread out his books, which he stared at without focusing on the words because he immediately felt like throwing up. He was hot but also incredibly cold, and he had the chills in the most uncomfortable of ways.
His friend didn’t notice anything, which he was grateful for, because Keiji wasn’t about to divulge into how he’d been feeling sick every day for at least the past two weeks. He forced himself to breathe calmly, but dark spots continued to dance in his vision, and Keiji really did not feel fine.
How random would it be if he asked to lie down for a second? Keiji debated asking, but he felt incredibly pathetic, so he forced himself to just suck it up and stay calm until it passed. That is what he had been doing all this time, so he could do it again. It always passed, and he was certain that, this time, it would too. Only it got worse, and Keiji really didn’t know how to deal with this.
The only thing he did know was that he really didn’t want to worry his friend or be an inconvenience. As a solution to his problem, he took a sip of the water in front of him. It was cool, and a welcome change to how burning hot he was feeling. Did he have a fever? He couldn’t say for certain. Keiji took a few more sips before putting it down, too anxious of drinking too much and exacerbating his already fragile state.
He ended up studying a lot more than he had initially hoped for. See? Keiji was fine. If he wasn’t, he wouldn't have been able to focus so much.
The exam the next day went well, and while Keiji did feel a little bit off, he was certain he had done more than fine. He even hung around his fellow students for a bit before he excused himself and packed up his things. He was almost certain that he was completely fine again.
It wasn’t only until he got home that things got really bad. As soon as he stepped off public transport, Keiji knew he didn’t have a lot of time before he would definitely pass out. He needed to get home. There was no choice––he rushed out of the metro to practically run home, which wasn’t ideal, but he really didn’t want to faint in public. He also didn’t want to call Koutarou. It would only worry him.
How exactly he managed to get through his front door was a mystery, but he managed. Koutarou came over to greet him with a cheerful grin, the way he always did. No matter how exhausted he was, he always put on a smile to greet Keiji. It was one of the things Keiji loved the most about him––seeing Keiji always made Koutarou happy, no matter how long and tiring his day had been.
There was nobody that Keiji loved more, and he found himself wanting to be close to his boyfriend and hugging him tight.
“Hey hey hey, you’re back!” Koutarou beamed, and Keiji had half a heart to smile back, though he was sure it looked more like a grimace. Judging from how Koutarou’s happy expression changed into a frown, Keiji was sure he didn’t look too great right now. “Are you okay?” Koutarou asked, concern seeping into his usually gleeful voice.
Keiji hated this. Koutarou should never look so serious, and Keiji should never be the reason for that. “I’m fine,” he managed to get out but his body betrayed him. His voice sounded more like a croak, and for a brief second, he lost his balance and swayed on his feet, and Keiji was afraid his knees might actually give in.
But it never mattered to Koutarou when Keiji crumbled, because he was always there to catch him. Though they’d never been in this particular situation, Koutarou steadied him almost immediately, and Keiji couldn’t have shrugged off the support even if he wanted to. He could no longer deny it––he felt absolutely awful, and he desperately needed to lie down.
Luckily, Koutarou had the exact same idea. Keiji left out a relieved sigh as his body was lowered onto his bed. He hadn’t even realised they had entered the bedroom. Huh. The brain was a funny thing sometimes. Only Akaashi was unable to laugh.
“Keiji, you’re scaring me,” Koutarou said so softly the sound of his words almost didn’t reach his ears. Keiji pried one eye open––he hadn’t even realised he’d closed them––and Koutarou’s face hovered over his, golden eyes looking down at him with something Keiji recognised as worry.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he mumbled and tried to sit up, but Koutarou held him down.
“That’s not the point,” Koutarou said. “This isn’t the first time you feel ill, right?”
Keiji would have lied if this wasn’t his boyfriend. But this was Koutarou, so he shook his head. “No, it’s not the first time.”
“For how long?”
“What do you mean?”
“For how long have you been feeling like this?” Koutarou sounded angry, and Keiji swallowed thickly under his boyfriend’s scrutinising gaze.
“Ah, for a few weeks,” admitted Keiji, and he could feel his cheeks burning up with embarrassment and shame. Koutarou’s grip tightened around his cold palm, and Keiji suppressed a wince. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so guilty.
“Why did you not tell me?”
“I apologise,” said Keiji almost immediately. He’d anticipated this, and he knew he would have to make amends for worrying Koutarou and for not being fully transparent with him, even though that’s what their friendship, and later on relationship, had always been about. “You have so much on your plate already, I simply didn’t want to add to it.”
Though his words were polite, his voice was scratchy and hoarse. No matter how eloquent he was trying to be, the sound of his voice betrayed him and revealed how bad he actually felt, because his voice was always smooth. According to Koutarou, at least.
“You’re so stupid,” said Koutarou as he got up, and Keiji found himself missing the physical touch almost immediately. “I’ll go make you some tea, and I’ll bring water, too. I bet you didn’t hydrate enough, either.”
Keiji looked away, biting his lip. “I did have beverages.”
“Like what, Kaashi?” Koutarou sounded upset, and Keiji flinched under the hard tone of his words.
“Coffee…” mumbled Akaashi, and the second syllable was drowned out by a loud groan from Koutarou.
“I am talking about water!”
“Coffee is literally made with water.” It wasn’t the smartest argument, but it was all Keiji had at his disposal at the moment. He cringed at the sound of his own words.
“I can’t believe you’re so stupid.” With that, Koutarou walked out of the room and Keiji listened to him heating up water in their kettle. Keiji heard him shuffle around in the kitchen, hunting for the teabags. Not knowing what to do with himself, Keiji lifted the blanket up to his chin and breathed out a sigh. Today really was not going according to plan, and he really wanted to fix his relationship with Koutarou.
He couldn’t jeopardise that. It was this thought that gave him the strength to move. Keiji got his elbows under him to lift his torso from the soft mattress of their shared bed, and he braced himself before standing up, worried that he might feel more sick again. Other than a little bit of dizziness he felt fine, so he walked over to the kitchen.
He couldn’t help but smile when he heard the music Koutarou had put on––it had been some time since Keiji had shown him all the songs of one of his favourite Swedish bands, and Koutarou knew just how much Keiji enjoyed their music. Koutarou really did everything right, while Keiji messed it all up.
As soon as Koutarou saw him, he rushed over to him and pushed him towards the couch where Keiji sat down, albeit reluctant.
“Why are you up?” Koutarou sounded exasperated, which was something Keiji had never heard before from him.
“Because I wanted to join you.”
“You should stay in bed, you’re as white as a sheet.” Keiji really did mess everything up.
“I feel alright again.”
A raised eyebrow.
“Fine. Maybe not alright, but better.” Now Keiji was the one to sound desperate, and he disliked it. After all, Koutarou only wanted what was best for him.
“Keiji,” said Koutarou as he sat down next to him. “You know I’m not mad at you, right?”
The chills Keiji had felt before came back, though they weren’t because of him being sick. Instead, it was a comfortable sensation that seemed to send electric shocks up his body wherever Koutarou touched him. With his boyfriend’s arms wrapped around him, Keiji allowed himself to lean against him with the weight of his upper body, and he nuzzled his face into Koutarou’s chest, breathing in his scent.
It was at that moment that Keiji realised just how exhausted he was, and how tired he had been the past week. Yet, he had continued to push his body past his limits, and now he was paying for it with the constant queasiness. Koutarou was right. Akaashi Keiji really was incredibly stupid.
“You need to rest more,” said Koutarou, his voice soft again. The annoyance from earlier wasn’t present anymore, not even a trace of it was left, and Keiji closed his eyes as he listened to Koutarou’s heartbeat against his ear. It was comforting, and the steady beat had him calming down, the knot in his stomach releasing all so slightly.
It was a start.
“I don’t have time to rest,” said Keiji, his protest getting lost in a yawn he tried to suppress.
“You need to make time for it,” said Koutarou, his voice clipped with frustration. “I can’t believe you keep pushing yourself like this. What is it you want to achieve?”
“I––”
“That was a rhetoring question.”
“A rhetorical question?”
“Shut up,” said Koutarou, but Keiji smiled at the soft chuckle that had Koutarou’s chest falling and rising rapidly before it stopped again. “All you will achieve is you getting seriously sick, and I’d rather not call an ambulance for you when you collapse from exhaustion or burn-out.”
When, not if. Keiji was all too aware of what kind of difference that distinction made, and he knew Koutarou was aware of it, too.
“I know,” he said, huffing a sigh in resignation. There was nothing he could do or say that would ameliorate this situation in any way.
Sensing his hesitance and uncertainty, Koutarou pressed on, accompanied by the music in the background. “I won’t let you work late into the evening anymore. And you won’t go to your campus unless you have to. Kaashi, you need to stay home at least one day of the week, spending time with me.”
Keiji wouldn’t give in so easily. “I am home on weekends.”
“That is a lie, and you know it. Last Saturday, you were at your friend’s place, studying. You weren’t home.”
“But I wasn’t on campus.”
“Same difference.”
Keiji knew what he meant. He just didn’t like to admit defeat, only there was nothing he could say without further digging his own grave. So he kept silent and stared straight ahead at a picture of the two of them in their high school jerseys. He smiled at the sight of it, and Koutarou hugged him tighter, pressing him against his chest even more.
“Please tell me when you feel sick,” said Koutarou, his voice merely a whisper. He sounded a bit as if he was choking, and Keiji looked up to see his lip quivering as if he was on the verge of tears. A massive bout of guilt erupted in Keiji’s chest, and his heart felt as if it might break at any second.
“I didn’t want to upset you,” Keiji muttered, lowering his gaze. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know you didn’t,” Koutarou said quickly. “It’s what I love about you so much. You don’t nearly care as much about yourself as you care about others, always putting their needs before yours.”
Keiji swallowed. He wasn’t wrong, and he definitely wouldn’t try denying it. How could he feel any differently, when people around him deserved the world? By no means did he think that he wasn’t deserving of that, only he was a lot more reserved than Koutarou, and he didn’t express affection so overtly. He was only mediocre in comparison.
“You’re so much more than that!” Koutarou almost shouted, and Keiji winced at the sudden loudness in his voice. He hadn’t realised he’d said that last thought out loud. “You’re my world, and I don’t want you to hold back from telling me things like this, because I want to take care of you as well.”
Keiji nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Quit apologising.”
Keiji bit down on his lip, keeping in another apology that threatened to escape him.
“Hey, look at me.” Koutarou sounded so earnest, so how could Keiji possibly refuse such a simple request? As soon as their eyes locked, Koutarou leaned forward and kissed him. The angle was awkward, but Keiji relished it nonetheless.
“I love you,” he said as they parted.
“I love you,” said Koutarou in return, giving Keiji a kiss on the tip of his nose which always left him smiling. “And we’ll both take the day off tomorrow, alright?”
“Kou, I––” Keiji started, only to be shushed by his boyfriend. They both stayed quiet for a few seconds, eyes locked. The tension between them was almost unbearable, and Keiji had to hold back from giving Koutarou a passionate kiss right then and there. Instead, they both listened to the 80’s music, and Keiji gave Koutarou a real smile for always being there to take care of him.
“It wasn’t an offer, but a request rather,” Koutarou grinned. “Or an order, if you will.”
Keiji knew there was no point arguing. And if he was very honest with himself, he couldn’t find it in himself to argue. He didn’t want to. “Alright,” he said, lying down on top of Koutarou as they settled onto the soft cushions of their sofa, a blanket draped over them.
Koutarou was warm against Keiji, who couldn’t remember a time in the last few weeks when he had been this comfortable. Maybe it really was a great idea to stay home once in a while. Koutarou was more important than his studies and grades could ever be.
They didn’t sleep in their bed that night, but it was the best sleep Keiji had gotten in a while.