Work Text:
It was rare for you to come home on time. You had a habit of staying at work until you were satisfied, which often led to you stumbling through your front door well past dinnertime. Kento always left work at 5 pm sharp, not working a minute later than he needed to. When the two of you first started seeing each other, your slightly concerning dedication to your job confused him. He didn’t understand why you’d voluntarily do this to yourself. But as you two grew closer and made your relationship official, he began to understand. He took note of how your eyes lit up as you talked about your latest projects and it became clear to him how dedicated you were. However…he also began to notice how much pressure you put on yourself.
He often woke to a fading warm spot rather than your grumpy morning groans, and often came home to an empty apartment. It became routine for him to get home, change into his comfortable clothes, and sit on the couch, occupying himself until the front door opened and you’d stagger in, sighing heavily as you relaxed your shoulders for likely the first time that day. You’d take off your shoes, place them neatly by the door, take your jacket off and hang it on the hook, and without fail, give him a tired kiss and ask if he’d eaten yet. Kento hated eating without you, but sometimes if you were working really late, he’d have no choice.
If by some miracle you’d made it home at a late, but still reasonable, hour, you and Kento would prepare dinner together, laughing and sharing anecdotes about the day. Kento loved those days. But sometimes, during times like this when you’d be in the throes of a new project at work, you wouldn’t get home until late at night, often past sunset. On those days, Kento chose to make dinner for the both of you, eat his portion alone and save the rest for you to eat when you got home. The first time he did that, you cried, like actual tears of joy, which startled him a little bit to be honest. You’d never really been one to break down, even when you were stressed out of your mind. Kento held you a little closer that night.
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Tonight was one of those nights. You’d warned him over the weekend that you’d be into the office early and home late for at least a week. It was Wednesday, only halfway through your week, and Kento could already tell that you were burning yourself out. Despite your assurances that it was nothing a little sleep couldn’t fix, he noticed the dark circles under your eyes and the sag in your posture. He was worried, to put it plainly. He hated knowing that your determination and dedication to your work was causing you to neglect yourself.
As per his usual after-work routine, he changed into a t-shirt and his favorite pair of sweatpants, taking a seat on the couch with a novel he’d started a few days ago. He read until his stomach rumbled, making him realize it was dinnertime already. He sighed, furrowing his eyebrows. You still weren’t home. He knew you wouldn’t be, but he’d still held out a little hope that you’d be home at a reasonable hour. Putting his book down, he walked into the kitchen to prepare a meal for both of you. Tonight, he decided that comfort food was in order, and made stir fry he knew you loved. You weren't a huge fan of meat, but he was, so whenever he made food, he always set half of it aside before adding any meat. The delicious aroma filled the apartment, and he wished you were here to brighten up the place.
After he finished eating, he packaged up your portion and put it into the fridge for whenever you did get home. He sat back down on the couch and picked his book back up, flipping through its pages. About an hour and a half later, his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text from you, letting him know that you’d just locked up and you’d be home in 20 minutes, with a bunch of hearts and lovey-dovey emojis. He couldn’t help but chuckle at your texting style. Despite dating for just under 2 years, he’d never quite gotten used to your messaging style. He himself wasn't one to text very often, or use emojis, so your over the top use of both was amusing to him.
True to your word, Kento heard the sound of your key in the front door almost exactly 20 minutes later. The door swung open, and Kento’s heart hurt. Your hair, which was almost always kept in a half-up half-down hair loop, was pulled back into a low ponytail. You only did that if you were fed up with your hair, which usually happened when you were concentrating too hard. As if on script, your routine of shoes off, jacket off, tired kiss was executed. Kento sighed softly as your lips touched his forehead gently. He always looked forward to your after-work kisses.
“Welcome home, love,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around your waist. You leaned into his touch, stifling a yawn.
“Did you eat?” you asked, not even being able to hide the exhaustion in your voice. Kento nodded and pecked you on the lips.
“Yes, your portion’s in the fridge. Made stir fry,” he answered, pulling you onto the couch next to him. Leaning onto him, you sighed, letting your body relax for the first time that day. You hummed in content, pressing another gentle kiss to his shoulder.
“Might skip dinner tonight, actually. Just wanna sleep,” you said, interlacing your fingers with his. He squeezed your hand lightly, frowning.
“Love, you can’t skip eating,” he scolded, causing you to groan.
“I know, I know, but I don’t have the energy,” you complained with an attempt at assuaging your boyfriend’s worries. Kento kissed your temple, and stood up, confusing you.
“Where’re you going?” You asked, not letting go of his hand. He ran his thumb along yours, smiling softly.
“I’m going to bring dinner to you,” he said, frowning when you suddenly stood up with him.
“Kento, honey, you don’t have to do that. I can do it. You were relaxing, please sit back down,” you said, letting go of his hand to walk to the kitchen. Your body felt heavy, and even though you desperately craved his comfort, you felt enormous guilt anytime he offered to do something for you.
About 5 months into your relationship, Kento started noticing that you never let him do things for you, even if he’d offered. He knew you were independent, and it was something he loved about you. He respected and admired your ability to handle yourself, relying on your own capabilities to carry yourself through life. But, he didn’t realize the extent of it until you’d gotten sick for the first time of your relationship:
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He knocked on your door, holding a plastic bag with his other hand. You’d texted him that you’d gotten sick and had to cancel on your usual Friday night date-night. So, doing what any loving partner would do, he picked up takeout from your favorite Chinese place and headed over to your apartment to see what he could do to help you feel better. You opened the door, confusion written all over your face.
“Kento? What’re you doing here?” you asked, opening the door more. He walked into your apartment, placing the bag on your table.
“I’m here to help you, of course,” he said matter-of-factly. You looked at him like he had three heads.
“Help me?” you asked, as if the words were foreign to you. Kento’s eyes softened as he really took your appearance in. You were wearing a shirt you’d stolen from him a few weeks ago, claiming that it was the ‘partner tax’. What you hadn’t known at the time, was that he’d actually bought it for you, purposefully buying it a few sizes too big for him. You loved oversized clothing, but being on the larger side, you’d been insecure that you couldn’t wear Kento’s clothes like other people did with their partners. Of course, Kento would never tell you that he did this on purpose, but he wouldn’t deny the swell of his heart when you found and subsequently stole that shirt.
It was clear that you weren’t feeling well, it was obvious just by looking in your eyes. The red nose and hoarseness of your voice were also dead giveaways. Your hair was pointing in a million different directions, and Kento had to hold back a chuckle.
“Love, have you eaten recently?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Hesitantly, you shook your head. Gently, he took you to your table and pulled the takeout boxes out of the plastic bag. Your eyes widened, and you looked up at him, your bottom lip wobbling.
“You got me takeout? Kento you shouldn’t have!” you gasped. Kento grinned and nodded, taking a seat next to you.
“Of course I should’ve. My partner is sick, therefore it is my duty to nurse you back to health,” he joked, but the slight freeze of your chopsticks didn’t escape him. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, and he reached for your hand.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked, lacing your fingers together. Suddenly, you started crying out of nowhere and Kento jumped up to pull you into his arms.
“You-You shouldn’t be hugging me. I’ll get you sick,” you said between tears. Kento just shushed you and held you tighter. Once your cries stopped, Kento sat you back down and handed you your glass of water.
“My love, what’s wrong? What did I do to upset you like this?” he said. Quickly, you put your hands up.
“No, no you didn’t do anything! If anything, I’m the one who has to apologize,” you said, not being able to stop the words. Kento’s concerned expression only grew, and he took your hands.
“Darling, what do you mean? What is there to apologize for?” You froze at his words, a confused look crossing your face.
“For making you take care of me?” you said slowly, forming it like a question. It was then that Kento understood. The independence he loved about you, while was absolutely because you like doing things yourself, was also because something in your life made you believe that you have to take on everything yourself. It was in this moment that Kento realized why you never let him do anything for you. Part of you, even if it was only a small part of you, genuinely believed that you didn’t deserve being cared for.
Kento sighed, pulling you into his embrace again, rubbing soft circles into your back. “Darling, you aren’t making me take care of you. I want to take care of you. I want to do things for you. You do so much for me, you love me so well. Please, let me care for you like you care for me,” he said, kissing your temple. Your body tensed, then melted into his hold as you started crying again. He held you through your sobs, continuing to rub your back, stroking your hair.
He stayed over that night, and stayed with you for the three days until you were better. Ever since then, Kento was determined to show you that you deserved the comforts of life, that you deserved a soft place to land at the end of a difficult day. That you were worthy of laying down your burdens.
He did, however, end up catching your cold. But you took diligent care of him, just as he had done for you.
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Kento grabbed your hand, not letting you walk another step forward. “Darling, you’re doing it again,” he said simply, softly. You sighed, your chest aching, and turned back to him.
“I-I know,” you said, looking at the floor. Kento took your chin and lifted your head so that you were looking him in the eyes.
“Hey, it’s okay. I know how hard you’ve been working. I’m worried about you. Please, let me take care of you,” he said, his eyes shining with love. Tears welled in your eyes and you nodded. He smiled and squeezed your hand.
“Good, now go change into your pajamas while I heat up dinner, okay?” You did what he asked and changed into the oversized shirt you stole from him along with some sleep shorts. Despite your mind urging you to go into the kitchen to see if Kento needed any help, you took a deep breath and sat on the couch, relaxing into the soft cushions. Minutes later, Kento came back with a bowl of stir fry. Your stomach growled, and you realized how hungry you really were. You took the bowl gratefully and began eating, moaning at the taste. Kento’s stir fry was truly one of your favorite dishes of his. He sat beside you, moving you so that you were situated between his legs with your back against his chest. You ate in silence, in reverence of this moment.
Once you finished eating, you stood up to go put the bowl in the sink, but Kento stopped you, taking the bowl from you with a wink. Despite your exhaustion, you smiled, silently thanking him. He came back with a mischievous look in his eyes.
“Kento…what are you thinking…?” you asked suspiciously, but with an undertone of amusement. Without saying anything, he picked you up off the couch, a yelp of surprise escaping your mouth. Even after almost two years with this man, you’d never gotten used to how easily he was able to carry you around the apartment. With you securely in his arms bridal style, Kento started pressing endless, obnoxious kisses to your face and neck, pulling laughs out of you that he hadn’t heard all week.
He carried you to the bathroom and sets you down on the toilet. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to take a hot shower and then we’re going bed. Sound good?” he said, firmly but not without affection. You nodded, giving into the desire to be taken care of. His use of ‘we’ makes your heart swell, and you wonder to yourself what you’ve done to deserve the man in front of you.
Almost reverently, Kento strips both of you and turns on the water. It warms up quickly, and you step in. The steam fills your lungs and the warmth feels heavenly on your sore muscles. The shower is intimate, non-sexual. Just an act of love between two people. You slide your bar of soap over your skin, relishing the feeling of the hot water. Kento washes your hair and you wash his, savoring every touch and kiss.
You both crawled into bed after the nighttime routine has been completed, and instinctively reach for each other. Your head on his chest, his arm around your waist, your legs tangled together. The perfect position. Before Kento, you were a chronic mover in your sleep. Your mother and friends always teased you for talking in your sleep and the occasional wandering in your sleep. You always felt a little bad for your roommate in freshman year of college, who had to deal with your nocturnal antics. You’d warned Kento about it when you started talking about staying over with one another, but as soon as his arms wrapped around you, you turned into a statue. It was the first time in years you’d stayed in one position the entire night. You still talk in your sleep every so often, but whenever you’re in Kento’s arms, you stay right where you are. You’d also discovered that Kento was always freezing cold at night, having like four or five blankets on his bed at any given time. The first time you’d stayed over at his apartment, you not only stayed put, but you woke up with the all the blankets save for the thin top-sheet pushed back. You’d always run warm, almost uncomfortably so. It often became too much for past partners, ending cuddling early to cool down or waking up a few inches away from them. You never really minded, because you knew it wasn’t ever something you could control. But Kento loved it. He called you his ‘personal space heater’, a corny nickname that you only liked when it came from him.
You could hear his heartbeat from your position, and its steady pace combined with his secure hold on your waist, tempted your eyelids to grow heavier.
“Kento, thank you, for loving me,” you said as you fell asleep. Just before you let sleep take hold, you felt a chuckle rumble in his chest and his lips on your head.
“Thank you, for letting me,” he said quietly, his loving tone the last thing in your mind as you let the day fade into a peaceful slumber.