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Everything hurts.
Well, that’s not quite it. Touya isn’t in pain, not the searing kind. It’s more like intense, chronic discomfort. He’s already shed his shirt and pants, the textures too grating against his sensitive skin.
Every shift pinches. The grafts tug at fibers of muscle and tissue, burning and burning and burning.
He’s done nothing but lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, for hours. Even the sheets are a nuisance to his body, but he’ll regret lying on the cold, hard floor. Touya throws an arm over his face. The ointment he’s supposed to use during these flare-ups is in the bedside drawer, and he hasn’t mustered the energy to grab it yet. He’ll just lie miserable for a little while longer.
The faint sound of a door opening. “Touya? I’m home!”
Maybe not.
Face still shielded, he nuzzles the sheets before instantly regretting it. It’s hell against his cheeks. Normally, he’ll drag himself up to help Koichi unload groceries, but the fatigue, coupled with his aching body, chains him down. He listens to Koichi shuffle around — removing his shoes and setting the bags on the counter — until footsteps approach the bedroom.
“Touya?”
He hums brokenly. “Welcome back, lovebug.
The bed dips beside him with Koichi’s weight, close but not touching, which he’s grateful for. “How long have you been lying here?”
“A while…” He shuffles a little, trying to alleviate the pressure on his back. It barely works.
More shuffling noises. Based on the missing warmth and rummaging noises, Koichi must be looking for his salve. Touya sighs internally. It’s about time to stop being a pussy, isn’t it? With great effort, he sits up. The staples in his back and abs pinch, brief zaps that nearly coax him to lie back down. He forces himself upright, holding a hand towards Koichi to deposit the cream.
Instead, a warm, slightly calloused palm clasps over his. Koichi squeezes his hand, and Touya turns his gaze to him, brows furrowed.
“Can I do it?” Koichi asks, smiling. Not a hint of annoyance in his expression.
“It’ll gross you out,” he says bluntly, protesting despite himself.
Koichi shakes his head. “Not true! It’s never bothered me when we kiss or hold hands.”
Another instance where Touya is grateful he can’t blush. He averts his gaze. “It’s not the same as spreading oily salve into every crease.”
Koichi squeezes his hand again. “Well, I still want to help,” he responds stubbornly. Earnestly. “Please, ToTo?”
Not the nickname…. Damn it. “Wash your hands first.”
So Koichi does. When he returns, he waggles his clean hands, and Touya pretends he isn’t deeply fond of this man.
“Sorry, but could you scoot forward a little?” Koichi requests, and he complies.
Koichi starts with his back. His hands are featherlight on his skin as he rubs in the sticky, herb-y salve. His grafts don’t have nerve endings, and normally it wouldn’t bother him, but Touya wishes he could feel Koichi’s touch all over.
When his back is stupidly slick, Koichi’s hands climb to his shoulders. His thin fingers press firmly, massaging his neck as well. Touya sags forward and hums. It’s good — much better than doing it on his own. He uses just enough pressure to work out knots in his grafts, without pulling the staples.
Touya remembers being hesitant with even the slightest graze against his grafts. It's mind-boggling — how much Koichi's learned about his body. How many times Touya lowered his walls so he could learn.
Koichi moves to sit in front of him, nudging at his legs. “Spread ‘em, please,” he requests.
Touya arches a brow before creating a space for his boyfriend between his legs. Koichi appears too focused to catch the innuendo anyway.
Koichi is methodical as he massages the salve across his torso. His arms. The back of his palms. He checks in once, twice, before handling the graft on his thighs. Touya hasn’t been so content in a very long time.
Finally, Koichi reaches his face, his thumbs tracing his jaw and the height of his skin grafts, towards the apple of his cheeks. “There,” he says. “All done.”
Cool relief fills in every crevice of his body. He feels satiated and taken care of. He feels okay, and it's because of Koichi... how did he get so lucky? How did he
Not wanting to get oily product on Koichi’s clothes, he gently knocks their foreheads together. “Thanks,” he rasps. Hoping his boyfriend can hear the gratitude in his voice.
Even with their faces so close, it doesn’t keep him from seeing Koichi’s bright smile. “Anytime, Touya.”