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Giyuu can’t get out of bed.
It’s his day off and in half an hour, he needed to be dressed and ready to go out for dinner with Sanemi. His phone has been going off on the nightstand for a while now, buzzing to life every few seconds.
He can’t reach out to grab it, much less unlock his phone and answer Sanemi now.
In all honesty, he should have declined Sanemi’s offer as soon as he extended it. He could feel the fog that slowly started to condense in his head with nowhere to go, the heavy lethargy that made him sluggish to even get up in the morning. But like an idiot, he had agreed, thinking that he could just push through until their date.
And now Giyuu can’t get up, because if he does, he’ll go straight for the medicine cabinet in the bathroom across the hall.
He blinks, the pillow next to him fuzzy and not quite focused. He doesn’t think he’s sad, really, or even that emotional at all. There’s no real reason for him to be like this.
Giyuu still can’t get up.
He laid there on his side, watching his phone vibrate and occasionally lifting himself out of his haze long enough to remember that he’s still an actual person with things like responsibilities and a social life.
The room became blurrier.
He doesn’t like remembering that.
There’s a different noise, too distant to make out at first, so Giyuu has to force himself to concentrate for a good minute before he hears the pounding on his apartment door.
“Open up, you little shit!”
Oh.
Sanemi’s voice grated on his ears, and while he usually wouldn’t mind, Giyuu’s head already feels simultaneously too desolate and too compressed to handle anything else. He winced and managed to sink his head further into the pillow, hoping to muffle Sanemi just a little bit.
The knocking didn't stop and it felt like Sanemi was beating Giyuu’s brain in with every hit.
“I know you’re in there! Open the damn door!”
He should get up. He needed to get up and explain to Sanemi what’s going on because Sanemi deserves that much after his day of radio silence.
Giyuu doesn’t move. He’s still numb, but there’s a part of him that’s flaring to life now, desperate for a quick solution for the problems he can’t bring himself to fix.
Sanemi goes silent and for a moment, Giyuu wonders if he left and feels a pang of guilt for feeling relieved if he did.
But then he hears the sound of the door unlocking and opening up, only to be slammed shut as Sanemi stalks into his room, snarling like a wild animal.
He forgot that Sanemi had a key to his apartment.
Giyuu doesn’t move to face him, but he can hear the stumble in Sanemi’s steps, the slight pause as he hesitates at the doorway before walking right up to his bed.
“Fucking hell Giyuu, you scared the shit out of me,” he said, crouching down so that Giyuu can feel the full force of his glare. “Why the hell didn’t you answer your phone?”
Sanemi has seen a couple of his bad days before, days where he’s listless and slow to respond. On those days, Giyuu still usually manages to shoot back deadpan answers to Sanemi’s interrogation, if only to see him fume.
But now, he couldn’t even get himself to open his mouth. He just laid there and stared.
Giyuu hadn’t said anything, but it seems to be enough to unnerve Sanemi, fierce expression slowly starting to morph into something a little more concerned.
“Giyuu?”
He could see the creases in Sanemi’s white button-up from this angle. He needed to get dressed too.
“Shit, do you need to go to the hospital? The fuck happened?”
In two stilted motions, Giyuu managed to shake his head ever so slightly. Sanemi’s frown deepened and for a moment, Giyuu swore that he almost looked scared.
“Can you talk?”
Another abrupt shake.
“Fuck, ok.” Sanemi let out a harsh exhale, running a hand through his hair. Did he style it? Giyuu can’t quite tell. “Ok. You need anything? Like—fuck I don’t know—water or whatever?”
He shook his head. He should drink something, but Giyuu hadn’t felt thirsty in days, and the idea of Sanemi being forced to take care of him left a sour note in his throat.
Sanemi’s here.
Giyuu felt a cold shock race down his spine.
Sanemi’s here because they were supposed to go on a date, a date that Giyuu agreed to and had been looking forward to all week, and instead of having a nice night out, Sanemi’s crouched in his dark bedroom, looking like he just stumbled across a corpse.
“Sorry.”
Sanemi paused, brow furrowing, and Giyuu realized that he said that out loud.
“The fuck are you sorry for?” The confusion on his face quickly morphed into flat-out disbelief. “Is this about the fucking dinner?”
Giyuu didn’t answer, but Sanemi seemed to understand regardless, scowl returning with a vengeance.
“Why the fuck would I care about that? I wanted to go out to talk to you , not to get food and drag you with me,” he snapped. “I dunno what’s going on in your head, but it looks like it’s still fucking empty if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Giyuu had long since learned to read between the lines when it came to Sanemi’s outbursts, every other emotion under the sun all wrapped up in a thick coating of rage, and he knew what Sanemi was trying to say.
He sank further into the pillow.
“What? You think that’s gonna change my mind?” Sanemi’s voice didn’t rise, but his tone was still firm. “Get back here.”
A calloused palm gently pushed itself between his cheek and his pillow, lifting his head back up to meet narrowed violet eyes. His hand was warm, fingers rough to the touch, and Giyuu couldn’t help but lull his head even further into Sanemi’s hold.
Sanemi opened his mouth, looking more than ready to argue his point, but never quite managed to get a word out, letting out a heavy sigh instead.
“I’m not helping, huh?”
Giyuu’s eyes widened, yet Sanemi only brushed his bangs back out of his face without a hint of irritation.
“I get it. I’ll shut up,” he said, slipping away to leave Giyuu on the bed so that he could shuck off his jacket. “Just give me a minute.”
He only understood what was going on when Sanemi roughly yanked the blankets back a minute later and forcefully inserted himself between Giyuu and the edge of the mattress, covering them both up and promptly latching his arms around Giyuu’s waist.
But Giyuu couldn’t really care less about that when he realized just how warm Sanemi was. It took an eternity for his brain to send the message to his lifeless body, but ever so slowly, he managed to curl himself just a little closer into Sanemi’s arms.
Sanemi’s shifting stopped as soon as Giyuu moved, eyes wide with a rather eclectic mix of emotions. He let out a deep breath, one that let his body visibly start to relax from its constant state of tension.
“Sorry about earlier.” His voice was quiet and barely audible, but Giyuu could feel the low rumble of his words from where his cheek was pressed against his chest. “Didn’t mean to yell.”
Giyuu didn’t mind. He deserved it.
“Shut up.”
Huh?
“You’re thinking about something stupid again. Shut up.”
Oh.
Giyuu shut up.
He was still drifting, his surroundings still a little too hazy, but that didn’t matter if he was here with Sanemi. He didn’t need the energy to move now, not beyond gingerly snaking his hands up to grab two messy fistfuls of Sanemi’s shirt.
Giyuu tucked himself into the hollow of Sanemi’s neck and felt Sanemi bring a hand up from the curve of his waist to cup the back of his head instead, gently pressing him closer.
“Stop being stupid and just—” Sanemi faltered, grip tightening ever so slightly. “Just—”
He didn’t finish whatever it was that he wanted to say, but Giyuu understood. He closed his eyes and let himself fall into the silence.
It was no less quiet than when he was alone, but held tight in Sanemi’s embrace, he could feel a flicker of life slowly start to emerge from the depths of his chest.
It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. Giyuu didn’t leave his bed, but Sanemi stayed with him, and in the quiet dark, he let himself rest.