Work Text:
“…Hey, Toya.”
Although he isn’t facing the door, Toya recognises the voice instantly. The softness, the honey in it; it builds dread deep in his gut in equal parts to the comfort it brings.
After a moment of silence, Akito clicks the bedroom door shut, approaching almost cautiously. Toya shifts; he uncurls from the little ball he’d been resting in, sitting up to make room for Akito to sit down beside him on the couch. “You weren’t at practice today,” his partner murmurs. “Didn’t answer any of our texts, either. We were worried.”
Toya simply nods at the observation. His phone lies face-down on the table in front of them, abandoned for the past hour. (Or two, or three; he isn’t sure.) Watching the messages stack up without the ability to respond to a single one had become too painful. It’s been on silent.
Akito shifts beside him. “What happened, Toya?”
The weight of the question is too much to bear. Toya shakes his head softly, uttering a quiet, “What time is it?”, voice a little scratchy from lack of use.
“‘Bout five.”
“Mm.”
“What’ve you been doing all day?”
…Toya can’t really think of an answer, the hours bleeding together. All of it feels fuzzy. He opts for a small hum and a shrug in response, eyes fixed on the floor. Akito’s hand lands on his own, tacky with dried up sweat. “You eaten?”
“I had… toast, this morning.” He hadn’t gotten out of bed until midday, but surely that still counts as morning. “And coffee.”
“Y’should eat something, Toya.”
He shakes his head again, slightly dizzy. The thought of eating makes him feel sick. Akito’s hand squeezes the back of Toya’s own, soft concern present in every part of his demeanour.
“…Sorry,” Toya whispers. “I’m so sorry, Akito.”
“That’s okay, you have nothing to be sorry for.” The warm hand squeezes a little tighter, Akito shifts closer.
“No, I… I’m sorry that I missed practice. I-I’m sorry you had to come here, I’m sorry I didn’t just text you back, I…”
I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please let me be sorry.
He wants to scream it, to shriek apologies to everyone in his life. I’m sorry I couldn’t be who you wanted, I’m sorry I didn’t help you, I’m sorry I can’t always be there, I’m sorry I burden you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.
“Shh, shh, Toya.” The roughness of Akito’s thumb trails his face, gently swiping away a small tear. “It’s okay, don’t apologise.”
He chokes on a breath. “But, I– I don’t know what else I’m meant to do.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” comes a soft murmur. After another hitched inhale, “It’s okay, Toya. You can cry.”
He only manages to fight it for another few moments before he dissolves into tears.
Akito is gentle, in every possible way; his shushes and encouragements are spoken so carefully, his touch is featherlight when he pulls Toya closer. It only makes him cry harder. Warm hands slowly press him down, letting him curl up into himself, head in Akito’s lap.
“I’m sorry,” Toya heaves, “I-I’m so sorry, I’m sorry you ha–” he chokes, “have to deal with this, I’m so so so sorry Akito—”
“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Akito draws him closer, one hand running through his hair whilst the other rubs firm circles into his back. “I don’t mind, Toya. I’ll always be here if you need me, I love you.”
…Toya can’t help but wish he didn’t.
If only Akito didn’t love him. If only An and Kohane didn’t love him, if only he didn’t have siblings who would do anything for him, if only things with his father hadn’t improved so much. If only he hadn’t made so many friends, if only, if only– things would be so much easier that way. His decision would be set in stone.
He hates it. He hates seeing them worry for him; the poorly concealed shake in Tsukasa’s smile, Akito’s voice turning soft, An and Kohane’s lingering gazes and words. He hates knowing that he can’t fix it. No matter what he tries, they always worry, they always turn sad.
Why, he wonders, why me? Why, after all this time, after so many problems, don’t they give up on him? Why won’t they just let him go? It would all be so much easier if they let him go, left him be. They would be free of him, and Toya—
“Akito,” he chokes, words broken and breath laboured with sobs. “Akito, I– I want to die, Akito.” He curls his hands into Akito’s shirt, presses his face against his partner’s stomach; anything to release the growing discomfort gnawing at him.
“I know, Toya, I know.” There isn’t any hesitation in the response; they’re both far too used to this to act shocked at the confession. His movements don’t falter, gently scratching Toya’s scalp. “You’re gonna be okay. It’ll pass, you’ve been getting better.”
“But I–” he pauses, coughing a little just to get air, “I can’t. It– it doesn’t last, Akito, i-it always gets worse again, it never lasts.” He hiccups roughly, trying to breathe through his tears, “It’s so unfair, Akito, I ha– I hate it.”
“Shh, Toya, I know.” He presses firmer into Toya’s back. “I know it hurts when you fall back, but you are getting better, we can all see it.” After a moment, Akito shifts, pulling his hands away; Toya sobs as he’s rolled onto his back, reddened face on full display. “You just have to push forward, I know it’s hard.” His partner gently pulls off the jacket draped over Toya’s thin frame, lifting and turning his arms, tugging up the sleeves of his t-shirt to check his shoulders. “You’re doing so well, Toya. I’m so proud of you.”
Toya sobs. Akito is proud of him. Bright, determined, unwavering Akito. Why, he wants to ask, why are you still here? Why did you come? What have I ever done to earn this?
He doesn’t ask, though. He’s too tired, throat too raw. He knows the response he’ll get. Instead, he simply allows his partner to take control; those warm fingers wipe at his face, gently brushing away tears, unsticking his bangs and grabbing some tissues from the table to clean his nose and dry his skin. Then he gently massages Toya’s shoulders, waiting for the last of the tears to die down.
Toya heaves another breath once he calms down, eyes sore. “Sorry,” he croaks, meaningless repetitions. “I-I’m sorry, Akito.”
“‘Stop with the apologies.” Gently, Akito moves him again, guiding him upright into his lap and drawing Toya into a hug. “It’s okay, partner,” he whispers, hand resuming the circles on his back. “I’d rather you let it out than let it build up, y’know.”
A few minutes pass in quiet, Toya resting his head onto Akito’s shoulder. His eyes droop shut, blinking slowly as exhaustion catches up to him; his head is throbbing painfully, eyes sore. His breaths come slow and congested.
“…You could’ve texted.”
Toya quickly shakes his head. “I-I wasn’t… able to,” he whispers, voice still raspy. Akito hums, holding him tighter.
They stay like that for a while. Toya’s sense of time hasn’t returned, so he just clings to Akito, an anchor in the midst of his confusion and exhaustion. His partner holds him so gently, so lovingly; Toya feels like he’s drowning in it.
Akito shifts eventually. “Come on, let’s get you some food,” he murmurs, voice low and quiet as if he’s afraid to break the silence. Toya doesn’t want to. He really doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to face just how useless he’s been, but– Akito would never accept that. So he nods, not protesting when his partner gently shifts him off of his lap, taking the hand offered to him and standing on shaky legs. The two walk slowly, cautiously; Toya’s head buzzes with dizziness, clinging to Akito for feeble support.
He’s gently seated at the dining table when they arrive downstairs. Akito whispers something and begins moving away, but– but he’s here, and Toya doesn’t want to be alone again, he so desperately doesn’t want to be left alone in this house again, even knowing that Akito is just in the next room.
The movement happens unwillingly; his hand curls tight into the fabric of Akito’s jacket, shaking his head frantically and whining as it exacerbates his headache. His partner pauses.
“Okay, Toya, okay,” he murmurs, almost cooing. (Toya should be ashamed.) “Come on, you can watch me cook, yeah? It’s alright, ‘m not going anywhere.” A gentle thumb traces along Toya’s cheekbone, following the curve of his jaw to tilt his chin up. And his eyes– it’s sickening, really, the amount of love and care caught up in olive hues, all for Toya. For Toya, who hasn’t done anything to deserve it. Akito doesn’t seem to care. He just lets his hand trail down, gently helping Toya up by the waist and slipping their palms together.
When they stand, they don’t move to the kitchen. Toya takes one step, tips his head forward, and he stays there; his forehead resting in the crook of Akito’s shoulder, breathing softly against warm skin. The warmth quickly surrounds him, an arm around his shoulders and a hand in his hair, and if he died right now he’d be happy. With Akito– he’d be happy.
“Mm, there y’go,” Akito murmurs when Toya’s shoulders finally drop with a long exhale. A kiss is pressed just above his ear, breath warm against the cartilage. “Rest, okay? Relax, please. You deserve it.”
Toya can’t help but disagree. Deserve this, no, he never has, never will– he’s selfish for asking, really, even more so for accepting it. This comfort, he craves it so badly, every atom of his being reaching out; Akito, Tsukasa, anyone willing to stoop so low as to hold him. It feels so lovely to crumble into them, though it hurts in equal parts, the knowledge of just how wrong he is for leeching off of them. They have their own lives, their own problems– Toya shouldn’t be worth their time. Toya isn’t worth their time.
And yet, they offer it anyways.
And Toya can’t find it in himself to refuse.
So he takes, he takes and takes and takes– as long as they continue to let him, he knows he won’t stop. He can’t stop, not when it feels so lovely. He’ll keep taking until they rid themselves of him.
He sinks into Akito, letting himself take once more.