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“Hey, it’s the middle of the night. Why are you up?”
Junichirou sighs softly at the sound of Atsushi’s groggy whisper, lifting his head from the arm of the couch. His boyfriend slinks closer to him, setting himself down on the edge of the cushions. Junichirou shifts slightly to the side, closer to the back of the couch, to give Atsushi more room to sit. A pale hand rests over Junichirou’s tanned forearm, squeezing gently.
“You alright?”
A small hum precedes Junichirou’s answer. “Not feeling great.”
Atsushi’s thumb starts to stroke his arm slowly, comforting, enough so that Junichirou’s fingers clumsily stretch out to hook into Atsushi’s silk pajama pants.
“Not feeling great how?”
“Stomach’s a mess,” Junichirou mumbles, wishing he’d been a bit quieter about his sudden departure from their room. Rolling off the bed and sprinting from the room probably wasn’t his best idea in terms of stealth. His face turns red and hot at the admission, regardless of how Atsushi clicks his tongue in sympathy.
“Think it was dinner?”
“Maybe,” Junichirou groans, “but it doesn’t matter now. Already sick from it.”
A quiet exhale of breath reaches Junichirou’s ears, followed by the squeak of the couch’s springs as Atsushi leans down to press a kiss to Junichirou’s forehead. “Have you drunk water?”
“Goes right through me,” Junichirou whines, throwing an arm over his eyes in shame.
Atsushi tuts at him anyway. “You need to drink still. Could get dehydrated.”
“But-”
“Jun, please?”
Junichirou lets out a shaky breath, pressing a hand to his stomach as it gurgles unhappily. In the dark, Atsushi’s hand blindly fumbles to find Junichirou’s stomach as well, massaging small circles with his palm into the heated flesh.
“Okay,” Junichirou agrees hesitantly, “but promise not to laugh if I end up running to the bathroom after.”
“Why would I laugh at that?” Atsushi asks, getting up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen. “I’m not twelve, and you’re sick.”
“But still-”
“No buts to it.”
Running water from the sink fills the silence between them, Junichirou’s words catching at Atsushi’s suddenly stern voice. Junichirou doesn’t speak for a moment, watching Atsushi’s silhouette hold a cup under the tap. Only when Atsushi returns to him, when he’s close enough to Junichirou for the ginger to spot the furrow in his partner’s eyebrows, does Junichirou speak again.
“You alright?” Junichirou takes the cup of water from Atsushi, gently taking his boyfriend’s hand in his free one. “Did I hurt you?”
Atsushi lets out a breath through his nose, kneeling on the floor next to the couch. He props his head up in one hand, still holding Junichiriou’s in his other. “No, you didn’t hurt me,” he whispers. “I just…I got sick often in the orphanage. Sometimes with…” Atsushi winces. “Stomach issues. From the moldy food or unfiltered water. I wasn’t allowed the same privileges as others. I’m sure you can imagine what that means.”
Junichirou does. And it makes him feel sicker than he already does. Junichirou squeezes Atsushi’s hand, lifting it to press a chaste kiss to the back of his lover’s palm. “I’m sorry. I’m being ungrateful.”
A vehement shake of the head comes as an immediate response. “Not ungrateful. Asking for help is…” Atsushi licks his lips, glancing off to the side when he feels too vulnerable. “It’s hard. I know. But if you don’t want to ask…can you accept it when it’s offered then?” Atsushi pleads with Junichirou through a sidelong glance.
The ache in Junichirou’s chest has nothing to do with his illness. “…I’ll accept help from you.”
Atsushi’s smile lights up the dark room, lights up Junichirou’s world. “I’ll take it,” he whispers, lifting his hand to place a kiss on the back of his lover’s. “Drink,” he coaxes.
Though Junichirou dreads it, he lifts the cup of water to his lips, taking slow and small sips. The water sits heavily at the bottom of his angry stomach, prompting him to pull the cup away and hand it off to Atsushi so he can use his remaining free hand to press on his belly. A loud, vengeful growl rumbles from the depths.
“Oh,” Junichirou groans, kneading at the heated flesh. “It did not like that.”
Atsushi clicks his tongue sympathetically, running his thumb back and forth over the dorsum of Junichirou’s hand. “Let it sit, but if you really have to go, then go.”
The next few minutes pass in silence, only broken by the groans of gastric distress. Despite their lengthy talk, it is still the darkest hours of night, and exhaustion pulls at their bodies. Junichirou quietly insisted he would make room for Atsushi on the couch, but the weretiger refused, preferring to kneel at Junichirou’s side and rest his head on the ginger’s thigh. Through it all, Atsushi’s thumb never stops its gentle ministrations.
Finally, Junichirou whimpers.
“Yeah?” Atsushi asks, the unspoken question in that one word.
Junichirou cringes. “For one night, can you pretend you don’t have stupidly good hearing?”
“Does it matter? Wouldn’t make fun of you for this.” Atsushi pulls back, and for as much as Junichirou misses the warmth, the pressing need for the bathroom is greater. “I’ll make you soup or something.”
“Atsu…” Junichirou groans, sitting up and holding his stomach carefully.
“No arguments. Now go.”
Junichirou doesn’t dare risk arguing further. He practically sprints to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and praying this sickness passes soon.
Junichirou curls up closer to Atsushi, pressing his head into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck. “If I stink, please pretend that I don’t.”
Atsushi snorts, pulling Junichirou close enough that their limbs overlap each other, entangled to the point where the beginnings and ends of them are unknown. Any closer and they may as well meld together.
“Of course,” Atsushi murmurs, kissing Junichirou’s temple.
The illusionist sighs softly, closing his eyes. “‘m gonna get you sick.”
“You’ll just have to take care of me then.”
Junichirou thinks of all the days and nights Atsushi spent alone. The illnesses he suffered. The pain and the loneliness. The cruelty of the world to punish a boy for existing. It makes Junichirou cling tighter, unwilling to let Atsushi face that misery again.
“I'll take care of you,” Junichirou promises, “through everything.”