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Akito disliked this kind of attention.
Okay, he didn’t actually dislike it, but it still felt weird and his friends didn’t have to know that. Akito just wasn’t that used to being taken care of, especially now that he is hospitalized and he will continue to be for a few more weeks until the doctors decide he is healed enough to go home.
Akito hated the bed. He hated the antiseptic smell. He hated the bland food and the stupid beep of the heart monitor and the way his whole body ached whenever he shifted. He missed the road. He missed speed.
Right now he missed anything that wasn’t white walls and boredom.
“Akito, stop daydreaming about racing.” Toya’s gentle voice snapped him back to reality. Akito groaned and shoved his face deeper into the pillow, mumbling something that was 80% complaint and 20% self-pity.
Toya looked up from the book he’d been reading—some philosophy thing Akito couldn’t pronounce—and raised a brow. “It’s boring, yes, but it’s better if you rest.”
“It’s boring as hell,” Akito corrected. “And I’m fine.”
“You have three fractured ribs, a sprained wrist, two cracked fingers, and a concussion,” Toya said calmly, packing a bookmark into the pages before setting the book aside. “You are the opposite of fine.”
Akito clicked his tongue. “Whatever.”
Toya sighed lightly, brushing a strand of blue hair behind his ear. “Well, lucky for you, An and Kohane will be here soon.”
Akito blinked. Then groaned. “They’re gonna baby me too, aren’t they?”
Toya only smiled, that soft, indulgent expression that always made Akito’s chest tighten. “They’re worried about you.”
“I don’t get why,” Akito muttered under his breath. “I’m not dead.”
“You almost were,” Toya reminded gently—but there was a trembling edge tucked into the softness. One that made Akito freeze.
Ah.
Right.
The crash.
He remembered flashes. Metal screaming. The jerk of his seatbelt biting into his collarbone. The sickening tilt of the world as his car spun sideways. The taste of blood. Toya’s voice somewhere far away.
Akito swallowed hard.
Toya reached out, brushing fingertips delicately across Akito’s bruised cheek, and the racer leaned into it without thinking. But before either of them could settle into the moment, a loud, familiar voice echoed through the hallway: “AKITO, WE’RE COMIIIING!”
Toya shot upright, already mentally preparing himself just in case. “Oh God.” Akito—unlike his fiancee—groaned like a child. “They’re worse than children.”
The door slammed open.
An strode in like a tornado of energy and misplaced volume. “Akito you look like crap!” she said, mostly joking. But he did look like shit, just a little bit. Still far better then how he looked when they brought him to the hospital.
Kohane followed right behind her, carrying a bag of snacks while simultaneously trying to get An to quiet down as they were in a hospital building. “An-chan! Not so loud—he has a concussion!”
“Oh—right.” An cleared her throat, then tried again at a normal volume. “Akito, you look like crap.”
Akito stared blankly, trying not to let out a small smile. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.” An beamed. “Anytime.”
Kohane hurried to the bedside, eyes wide with worry. “Shinonome-kun… how are you feeling? Does anything hurt? The doctor said you shouldn’t move too much because it might strain your ribs and—”
“Kohane, breathe,” Toya said gently, placing a soft hand on her shoulder. She was still affected by how Akito looked when they got him out of the car. They all were.
Kohane inhaled sharply. Then exhaled, calming down. “Ah—right.” Akito snorted while An dropped into the chair beside Toya, kicking her feet up on the side of the bed frame until Toya forced them down. She stuck her tongue out at him.
“So,” she said brightly, “we brought snacks!”
Akito brightened despite himself. “Good ones?”
“Of course!” An dumped the bag onto the bed: despite hospital rules, it contained an ungodly amount of chips, candy, chocolate, and one suspiciously large energy drink. Most of which were Akito’s favorite snacks, though there were some only Kohane liked—An probably picked them.
Toya eyed the large energy drink, shaking his head. “He’s not drinking that.” But Akito pretended not to listen, trying to get An to give it to him. “Try and stop me.” He challenged his fiancee.
“You can barely lift your hand,” Toya replied, crossing his arms as he stared down at his partner.
“…fair.” Akito said in defeat, earning a giggle from An and Kohane. An pulled a chair up close to him and leaned her chin on the bed. “Soooo… what’s the damage? Did the doctor say when you can walk again?”
Akito huffed, stubborn in the way only someone who had absolutely no right to be stubborn could be. “I can walk.”
Kohane blinked at him, incredulous in that quiet, earnest way she had. “You literally fell trying to reach the bathroom this morning.” An choked on her own breath. “You what?”
Akito’s heel nudged at the blanket—more petulant than he’d ever admit. “It wasn’t a fall. It was a—stumble.”
“You hit the floor,” Toya said, ever the voice of calm betrayal. Akito shot him a glare. Traitor. Absolute traitor. An was already halfway to doubling over with laughter. “Aaaaah, man. I wish I was there to see it.”
“No, you don’t,” Kohane whispered, her voice small. “He almost fainted.”
An’s laughter stuttered into a halt. Her shoulders straightened, expression gentling in a way that made something tight coil in Akito’s chest. “Hey… but seriously.” Her voice softened. “We’re glad you’re okay.”
For a second—just a second—Akito forgot how to breathe.
He was terrible at this. At softness. At being the one people worried about. Toya could soak in affection like sunlight, but Akito… he’d never been taught what to do with it, where to put it, how to hold it without dropping it. It made his fingers itch.
“Yeah, well,” he muttered, scratching at his cheek, eyes darting anywhere but their faces, “I didn’t die, so… yay?”
Kohane reached out, placing her hand gently over his uninjured one. Her palm was warm. Steady. Too much. “We were really scared.” Akito’s gaze slid away instantly, like touching that sincerity for too long burned. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
An blinked. “For what?”
“For… making you all worry. I guess.”
Toya’s smile curved soft and wounded, like he was the one apologizing. “You don’t have to apologize.” And An nodded vigorously. “Seriously. If anything, we should be saying sorry for letting that idiot race in the first place.”
Kohane’s jaw tightened in a rare flash of irritation. “I heard Ena-san raced him.”
Akito raised a brow. “You heard?”
“She destroyed him,” An said with far too much delight. “Then Mizuki banned him from the entire underground community.”
Akito nearly launched himself upright. “WHAT?”
Toya cleared his throat, looking incredibly resigned. “That… does sound like them.”
Akito groaned and shoved both hands over his face, wincing when his ribs protested. “I swear to God—my sister’s insane. Mizuki’s insane. Why is everyone around me insane?”
Toya didn’t even hesitate. “Because we love you.”
Everything in Akito went still. An nudged his foot beneath the blanket. “Damn right we do.” Kohane nodded, shy but certain. “Mm… a lot.”
Akito felt the tips of his ears ignite. He hated this. He hated how warm it made him feel. How exposed. How known. He loved it too much. And the worst part was that every single one of them knew that, too.
Toya reached for the cup on the bedside table, lifting it slightly. “Drink.” Akito opened his mouth to protest. Toya raised one eyebrow. Akito shut up and drank.
An burst into loud, delighted laughter. “He’s so whipped.”
“I AM NOT—”
Kohane giggled behind her hand. “Akito-kun… you can’t even lift your hand without making that face.”
“What face!?”
“That one,” all three said, perfectly in sync.
Akito groaned and yanked the blanket over his head like it could hide him from the entire world. Toya gently tugged it back down. “You’ll suffocate.”
“Good.”
An snorted. Kohane smiled. And despite himself, despite everything aching and everything being boring and everything being suffocating, Akito felt the air warm around him—felt the room fill with something loud and familiar and terribly precious.
Toya ended up reading aloud from his book because Kohane insisted and An complained after every other sentence. Kohane shared fruit candies with Toya, who accepted them like they were fragile offerings. An kept elbowing the bedframe whenever Akito made a face, threatening to smuggle him out of the hospital just to “see some real action again.” And Akito lay back against the pillows, pretending he didn’t enjoy any of it.
But he did.
He really, really did.
Hours slipped by before a nurse came in and declared—very unimpressed—that they were “causing a disturbance.” An argued that she was a disturbance by nature. Kohane panicked. Toya apologized. The nurse nearly sighed herself into early retirement.
Eventually, they were ushered out.
Akito groaned as Toya helped adjust his pillows again, fussing in that gentle way that always made Akito feel a little too warm inside. “I’m not a baby, jeez…”
“You’re worse,” Toya murmured.
An laughed on her way toward the door. “We’ll come back tomorrow! Kohane has a test but we’ll sneak her in—”
“An-chan!” Kohane squeaked, mortified.
“—and we’ll bring more snacks!”
“No energy drinks,” Toya added, deadpan.
An blew him an exaggerated kiss as Kohane dragged her out.
The door clicked shut. Silence settled, softer this time.
Toya sat back on the edge of the bed, brushing his thumb lightly over Akito’s knuckles. “You pushed yourself too hard,” he said quietly. “It’s okay to slow down.”
“I know.” Akito swallowed, throat tight. “I just… hate being weak.”
Toya shook his head slowly. “You are not weak.”
Akito didn’t answer. Toya leaned forward until their foreheads touched, breath soft against Akito’s lips. “You terrified me.”
Something inside Akito cracked. “Sorry.”
“Just get better.” Toya’s voice was barely a whisper. “That’s enough.”
Akito finally met his eyes. “Stay a little?”
Toya’s smile softened, warm enough to melt him. “Of course.”
He stayed. And Akito drifted to sleep to Toya’s steady breathing, their fingers entwined, warmth pooling somewhere deep in his chest. Loved. Held. Safe.
For once—just once—the hospital bed didn’t feel like a cage. It felt a little less lonely. A little less cold. A little like home.