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There are days where Keiji doesn’t feel comfortable in his own skin.
Days where he looks at his reflection in the mirror and is left unable to find a single thing he likes about his appearance.
Today is one such day.
His hair? An unruly mess.
His eyes? Tired, with dark bags under them due to him working late every day for the past two weeks.
His lips? Thin and dry and chapped from the cold weather.
He drags his fingers along his hairline. It seems his hair’s been thinning out lately.
He takes a step back and observes his entire figure, staring back at him from the full-length mirror.
His hips have been getting fuller ever since he quit volleyball. He looks down, pinches the skin of his stomach between his fingers and closes his eyes, refusing to take in the sight. He had vowed to start going to the gym after quitting volleyball, but never did. He mentally curses himself for it.
He’s wearing his old Fukurōdani #2 jersey from his third year of high school. It’s a bit tight on him now.
He can’t shake the feeling of inadequacy over having woken up at 1 PM; even if it's his free day, he should have set the alarm at a decent hour and spent some time to actually look presentable.
Trying to distract himself by thinking about the positive things in his life doesn't help either. It only makes his thoughts spiral even further, makes him feel undeserving of every good thing life sent his way. Undeserving of his job, undeserving of the love and acceptance of his family, undeserving of having Kōtarō as his boyfriend.
Before he even notices, tears are welling in his eyes, quickly streaming down his face. Impossible to stop as the reflection before him distorts and his attempts to breathe come up short.
Keiji has always been a silent crier. There’s no real explanation for it; he just trained himself never to make a sound, the fear of being a burden to his loved ones always creeping into his mind.
These days, it’s different but kind of the same. Kōtarō had been the first person he felt somewhat comfortable being vulnerable with. There simply was something in his attitude that made it easier to talk to him rather than everyone else. And even though he still didn’t make a sound when he cried, his boyfriend seemed to have a sixth sense of sorts, always able to instinctively know when Keiji was at his lowest.
Even now, as he hears the front door open and close, Keiji isn't surprised when Kōtarō doesn’t greet him like he usually does as soon as he comes home. Instead, he hears his footsteps, softer than usual, making his way to the bedroom and then he’s there, assessing the situation from the doorway.
When he realizes Keiji is struggling to breathe, he steps forward and gently places Keiji’s hand over his chest, right above his heart.
“Breathe, Ji.” He instructs, softly. “Focus on my heartbeat.” After a couple of seconds, Keiji can feel Kōtarō’s heart pulsating under his palm, and concentrates on the steady rhythm, trying to match his breathing pattern with it.
“You’re doing so good.” Kōtarō praises him. “Keep breathing in and out, like I’m doing now.”
Keiji keeps on breathing. In, out, in, out, in, out…
After a while, he feels comfortable enough to let his hand drop from Kōtarō’s chest.
“Are you feeling better now?” Keiji nods.
“Do you feel like talking?” he shakes his head no.
“How about just laying in bed with me? Think you can do that?” Keiji nods once again.
Kōtarō gently guides him towards the edge of the bed and pushes him down until he’s laying flat on his back. He makes his way to the other side and lays down as well, sliding closer.
Keiji turns towards him and looks up into Kōtarō’s eyes, a silent plea in his.
“Want me to hold you?” Another nod.
Kōtarō engulfs him between his arms, Keiji’s face pressed against his chest.
A sudden wave of guilt washes over him. The tears threaten to make their way out once again. He tries, hard, to fight them, not wanting to be any more of a burden than he already feels he is. Eventually, he can’t stop them and a dark wet spot starts forming in the front of Kōtarō’s shirt.
“I’m sorry.” He manages to choke out between sobs.
Kōtarō starts running a hand through his hair. “There’s nothing you need to be sorry for, Ji.”
Then, Kōtarō starts whispering his usual reassuring words to him. A mantra he recites every time Keiji breaks down. It’s the only thing that effectively helps him feel better.
“You’re beautiful.” He always starts with that.
“I love your eyes.”
“I love your nose.”
“I love your mouth.”
“I love your ears.”
“I love your body. You’re perfect, Ji.”
“I love everything about you. You’re the best person in my life; I’m the luckiest person in the world to be able to call you my boyfriend. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.” A gentle caress on the side of his face, Kōtarō’s hand guiding him to look up at him again.
“I love you.”
Keiji attempts a smile through teary eyes, and leans up to place a kiss against Kōtarō’s lips, hoping to pour out all his love.
Kōtarō shifts his arms to pull him even closer. “We can stay here for as long as you want.”
Keiji scoots further into his awaiting arms, letting himself be hidden away from the world in their safe haven.
He knows it’s gonna take a long time and many more days like this one, but maybe with Kotaro’s unwavering presence, he could learn to love himself again.
Maybe. Someday.