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Satomi doesn't want to bathe.
He isn't exactly sure why. He definitely should want it. He definitely should do it. It's cold enough that his fingers are aching when he gets home, and nothing would be better than getting inside a warm bath.
But he simply doesn't feel like it. Instead, he throws himself on top of his futon and stays like that, wearing the same clothes, coat still on. It's not comfortable, but he's not really paying attention to it. He just keeps mindlessly scrolling on his phone, pretending he's not waiting for a notification that never comes. He even opens Line once or twice by impulse then immediately regrets it, chastising himself for being so weak.
As he stays like that, the night gets colder, and his apartment isn't doing him any favors either. Its only advantage is its size, but there's no way he's feeling warm enough to call it good.
Satomi finally takes off his glasses. He rubs his whole face with his hand in frustration. It isn't supposed to be like this. Not anymore. But everytime he thinks he's grown, that he's finally mature enough, something in his brain reacts wrongly and he feels like a child all over again.
"Enough is enough" He mumbles to himself, and gets up from where he was.
Discarding the clothes felt good. And so did the warm water in his tub. Satomi really doesn't know why he was reluctant before. He soaks comfortably for more time than he usually does, feeling his fingers get wrinkled and his head so light he might doze off.
His mom would've probably already come check on him if he were back in Osaka. That's one of the things Satomi enjoys the most about living alone, no nagging, the freedom do make questionable choices. He can choose to spend hours freezing before bathing, he can choose to almost fall asleep in his tub and no one will be here to say a word. He's completely alone now.
Satomi discovers why he felt like this was a bad idea soon enough.
The moment he's washing his hair, his fingers making the softest foam while he massages his scalp, he can quite literally smell what's wrong.
"It smells like him..." His shampoo. Satomi doesn't sniff his own hair, of course, so he barely associates the shampoo as his own smell. But Kyouji also uses it when he sleeps here, and Satomi is always too close to him not to notice.
He doesn't want to smell Kyouji's scent now. It makes him angry just to think about it, his stubbornness coming back, their fight still fresh in his mind. And Satomi doesn't even hate what he did, but with Kyouji is always about how he acts. That's always what infuriates Satomi.
He rinses quickly once his mood is ruined, and gets ready to bed since he really doesn't want to torture himself any longer with even more screentime, his fingers itching to type things he'll regret later. Sleeping is safer.
It's quite late already since he spent too long avoiding the bath, then even longer enjoying it once he got to the bathroom, so Satomi get a bit surprised when he checks the time.
There are notifications, but he doesn't want to open them. He said to himself that sleeping is better and he means it.
But Satomi's life isn't that simple. Satomi's life isn't as ordinary as he hoped it would be, after all. Almost soon as his head hits the pillow, he can hear the knocking on the door.
"What..."
It's not loud, he wouldn't hear it if he were asleep, and the person mustn't be aiming to wake him up if they didn't use the doorbell. The knocks are hopeful, shy almost, they're meant for a Satomi who's awake at this hour and willing to open the door.
Of course, Satomi knows exactly who this is.
He isn't about to refuse him at this hour. Satomi probably wouldn't refuse him at any hour, but he tries to retain a bit of dignity by pretending that makes any difference, as if it's remotely unsafe for Kyouji to be outside at late hours. Maybe unsafe for other people.
But he doesn't exactly greet him. He doesn't want to see the sheepish smile he'll put on, the excuses, the masks. He's too tired for that. So Satomi opens the door and goes back to where he was, where his covers are hopefully still warm.
Kyouji fortunately doesn't say anything, merely taking off his shoes and following him inside.
When Satomi's sitting on the futon, Kyouji gets closer and, without any warning, drops on the ground and lets his head fall into Satomi's lap, like he's his personal pillow, like he has any right to be touching Satomi right now.
"I'm sorry it's so late." He starts, arms already coming to hug Satomi's side, worrying about him trying to get away probably. "I warned you, but you didn't see it. Satomi-kun's really scary when he's mad."
Satomi still can't believe this man. The gall.
But Kyouji's not paying attention to his indignation. He merely buries himself further into his lap, warming his own face with Satomi's thighs, being pathetic and gross, as usual.
And he's so close that Satomi can definitely smell it on him now, his shampoo. It's annoying. But what's even more annoying is that he isn't nearly as mad at Kyouji as he should be, he's not even fighting it.
"I can go if you don't want me here." He says while rubbing himself on Satomi, while hugging him tight like Satomi's going to disappear between his fingers if he doesn't. He's really a horrible man.
"I can go anywhere Satomi-kun wants me to." Kyouji says innocently like he doesn't know, like Satomi hasn't said it to his face more than once. His only wish, the most selfish and absurd thing he's ever wanted.
"Stay." Satomi says like it's an order, still trying to maintain his dignity.
But he knows, they both do, it really isn't.
He's not allowing Kyouji to be here, with grace and benevolence. He's not commanding him either, bending this man to his will.
It's what he needs. It's what they both need.
So Kyouji will stay. They'll keep each other warm. And Satomi will keep smelling his own shampoo on him, thinking it's both the best and the worst thing in the world.