Work Text:
Sometimes you really hate your boyfriend.
Yes, yes, he's perfect, you know, with his stupidly good-looking face and his muscular body and his kind hard and his awful talent and, even worse, his passion, that he follows, without a doubt.
It's worse with Atsumu, you think, because you don't love him nearly as much because he's the same. Talented, good-looking and so sure of himself and his passion that he didn't even go to College. Now he's playing for the Black Jackals like it's how the earth should turn.
"Baby?" Samu's voice is muffled through the bathroom door. You huff.
"Are you still alive? You've been in there for at least half an hour."
"The water's still hot," you yell back. Which isn't true. But you don't want to get out. As long as you're in the bathtub you don't have to learn. As long as you don't have to learn you don't have to think about your studies. And as long as you don't have to think about them you don't have to face the most annoying question of your life - what do you want to do?
Not in the way Samu asks you after dinner, wiggling his eyebrows as he waits for the answer.
Not in the way you ask Samu every time he comes home from work, hoping that just this once he'll not make dinner himself but run down to the fast-food joint with you.
What do you want to do with your life?
-
"Are you coming to bed soon?" Samu asks from the kitchen. You don't know what he did in there until now, it's spotless anyway.
"Mhm," you say noncommittally, typing another line. You still need to finish this assignment. And you should get ahead on your reading.
"It's after midnight, babe, you need some sleep."
"Yeah, sure." Wait, do you write this word like that? Does it even mean what you think? You open another browser tab and type it in, waiting for it to load only to be interrupted by warm hands grabbing your sides.
"You've got ten seconds to save everything before I carry you to the bedroom."
"Samu!" You whine, "I have to get this done."
"No, you don't. Well, not tonight at least. You still have three more days to finish this. You need your sleep."
"Well, what do you care?" You snap. Surprise flutters over Samu's face like butterfly wings.
"What do you mean, baby, you know I love you." He sounds distraught, so pathetic you could almost mistake him with his brother. And it's your fault and your fault only.
You do the only thing you can do in a situation like this. You cry.
-
It's not a comfortable thing, holding a conversation like this at one in the morning when even your bones are tired and your alarm is gearing up to call on you in a few hours for yet another tiring day.
But Samu firmly believes in "never going to bed angry" even more than he believes in "getting enough sleep".
Is it hard to admit that you're a little jealous of his passion? Or, not necessarily his passion, but that he has one? Yes. It makes you feel foolish, like a little kid pointing an accusing finger at a grown-up.
But it's true. And it's Samu. He doesn't snicker, he doesn't call you pathetic even though you'd deserve it. Instead, there's understanding blooming in his eyes.
"Do you still love me?" He asks. You nod and swear and promise that you've never loved him less. So he tucks you into bed like he'd been planning to for hours, presses comforting kisses over the furrow of your brows.
"We'll get through this," he promises. You fall asleep because you trust him.
-
Ginjima brings over his little cousin on the weekend. The girl's five and even though you resemble a mess more like a human being, Kaede's seriously convinced that you're her idol.
"Can we play doctor?" She asks, holding up a stethoscope.
"Where did you find that?" "T'was in the box." She points at a box in the cupboard she most definitely isn't supposed to go through. At least she didn't find anything dangerous.
"Of course we can. Do you want to be the doctor?"
"No," she shakes her head. "You're the doctor, I'm a nurse, like Momma. Toshi can be sick."
"Thank you," Ginjima snorts. "I always knew you cared about me."
"Can I be a patient too?" Samu asks, pressing a hand against his chest. "I think my heart is going to fast. Can you listen to it, Doctor?"
"Dork," you call him, but little Kaede nods and tells him to sit on the couch so that she can get to him better.
And it's weird, how easily you slip on the stethoscope. Maybe you've watched too much Grey's Anatomy on top of your lessons, have read too far ahead in your books but you have no problem finding the right spot, Samu's heartbeat like a symphony in your ears.
"It's cold," he hisses. You can't bring yourself to tease him.
"Is he sick?" Kaede asks, pulling you out of your reverie. You nod with your gravest face. "He's lovesick. No cure, I'm afraid."
Kaede gasps in shock, but Samu laughs, his body shaking, knocking into you.
-
"Can I ask you a question?"
Suna furrows his brows. "When did you ever have to ask, Samu?"
Your boyfriend smiles his most innocent smile. You fear the worst.
"Did you always want to play volleyball?"
Suna snorts. "Nah. And you know that." He must sense your confusion because he turns, golden eyes glinting with amusement. "I thought about becoming an influencer instead in my third year."
"Why didn't you?"
"Ah," he shrugs, "I didn't want something I like doing to turn into a job, you know? That would take all the enjoyment out. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate playing volleyball professionally, but I'm already thinking ahead, figuring out options for when I'm done with it. Unlike someone else..." He can't help but dig into Tsumu and the latter never backs down from a Challenge. Soon it's an all-out fight on the table and you're sitting in the middle of it.
Samu leans into you, head an your shoulder, mouth pressed against your ear.
"There are plenty of options," he reminds you softly, "You can still figure out what you want to do."
-
"'m not hungry," Samu declines your offer for snacks. That's worrying enough. He's resting on the Couch, a rare sight this early in the evening.
"You good?" You ask, smoothing a hand through his messy hair. He nods.
"'m fine. Just some weird stomach issue."
"Yeah? What are the symptoms?"
"They're gross, I don't wanna talk about them."
"Stinky?"
"Mhm."
"Did you drink enough?"
He nods, wraps your arms around you to pull you in. When you snuggle into his side like you always do, he's barely able not to flinch.
"What's hurting, boo?" You ask, now a little more worried.
"Just my stomach. I think you kneed me there a little."
You didn't, but he's unwilling to talk more about it.
Still, you can't help but keep an eye on him. He complains about pain in his lower back, convinced he pulled something when he lifted bags of rice earlier. You try to massage the area but he pulls away quickly, claiming it hurts to be touched, so you get him the heating pad you use for period pains.
He falls asleep soon after and you're barely able to get him up and into bed.
When you wake up at night to use the toilet and grab a drink you're surprised to find him flushed and feverish. Your little worry grows as you take his temperature, try to figure out what he could be suffering from.
It's like solving a riddle and every clue you have could mean a thousand different solutions.
It's only when he wakes up, parched and whiny, throwing up immediately after downing a glass of water, that the dots connect.
"Samu," you kneel next to him. "Where does it hurt the most?"
"Stomach."
You let your hands wander, just the gentlest touch until he hisses when you reach the area around his navel. Following a hunch you move down toward the lower right side of his abdomen and he curses loudly, telling you exactly what you didn't want to hear.
"Babe, get up, we're going to the hospital."
"What?" His eyes are blown wide. You press a soothing kiss to his lips. "I'm not a doctor but this looks a lot like appendicitis. I'd rather get it looked at right now instead of having you go through emergency surgery."
Is it difficult to get a sleepy, pained, sick man to the hospital with nothing but public transport and determination? Yes.
But it's worth it, you think when you explain the symptoms and the doctor nods with a serious expression, complimenting you for your swift course of action.
You get to hold Samu's hand through every step of the examination, press one last kiss to his lips when they prep him for surgery.
"I'm going to wait outside," you promise, "Call everyone who needs to know. In a few hours we're going to laugh about this, I promise."
He pulls you in, mouth pressed against your ear. "Nothing's going to happen to me with you at my side."
And maybe, you think as they wheel him away, as you wait for the first call to connect, you've never been on the wrong path.
You just lost a little sight of what it meant to be here.