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Suguru blinks at the darkness, including the faint red spill from his alarm clock against the walls. It’s just enough to see once the eyes are adjusted, and Suguru’s own have had far too much time to do so. The illuminated numbers read somewhere near 2 am. His bleary vision couldn’t focus enough to read the numbers clearly, nor did he have the capacity to care. Whether he slept or not, he’d feel the same. Nothing. Dragging through time.
He stretches his aching legs underneath the two throws and a weighted blanket pinning him against the mattress. After Satoru had gotten a weighted blanket–and had encouraged Suguru too because of the positive effects it was having on his anxiety–he gave in. He brought one in a store quite a bit away. He was dismayed at the price, yet Satoru spoke as if it were a cheap thing.
A huff breaks the quiet of his dorm as he reflects. It’s kind of helped, but sometimes he feels like it’s trapping him. He’s been freezing lately, and it helps him retain heat. And Satoru recommended it. So it’s not all bad.
Damn, his mind says, I’m being mean to Satoru. I’m awful.
Suguru rolls over, wrestling the heavy blanket. He shuts his eyes.
Stupid.
My stomach hurts.
It doesn’t matter anyway.
His eyes slip open again. He stares at the thin wall that separates him and Satoru. They made a mutual agreement to sleep close, enough for Satoru to move his bed to the other end of his room. They made a system: One knock for I miss you, two for text me please, and three for I need help. Suguru wouldn’t knock this early, but he knows Satoru is away for a mission and delivers a single thud to the wall with a closed fist. That hand then trails down his face because he’s exhausted.
A pulse of cursed energy makes him flinch and instinctively throw everything off his body to sit up in bed. His brain lags before it registers… Satoru.
The door doesn’t swing open like he expects. Footsteps slink through the corridor, then his door is cautiously opened, and Suguru groans from the light pouring in. Those blasted motion sensor lights always bother him at night. He’d rather have Yaga order for them to be ripped out and replaced with an average light switch. The first part he sees of Satoru’s body is the glow of his soft, white hair against the irritating backdrop.
Suguru doesn’t bother trying to lie down and pretend. Satoru can see his cursed energy sitting up, definitely.
Satoru is wearing his glasses, which is the next thing immediately noticed. Weird thing for when he was apparently sleeping, if he wasn’t on the mission.
Suguru takes a deep breath to ask, “Did I wake you?”
To Suguru’s amazement, Satoru’s feet leave the floor as he’s jump-scared, his shoes landing with a dull thump and his hand flying to his mouth to keep his yelp inside. “S-Suguru?” He leans forward, resting his arms against his knees to catch his breath. “What the hell…” he mumbles.
“Didn’t you see me awake?”
“Sitting up, yeah. Not awake,” he replies.
Suguru squints. “What?”
Satoru seems to get the hint and shuts the door, canceling out the blinding sensations. “Well, I’ve seen you sleeping sitting up sometimes,” he mentions, kicking off his shoes differently than he would within his own dorm, carefully leaving them straight and tidy. “In class, or like–when you get bored.”
“Uh, okay,” Suguru says, without an opinion. “Did I wake you?”
“No, I just got back.” Satoru walks with ease through the darkness, avoiding Suguru’s mess of clothes on the floor. “Did you knock?”
“Once,” Suguru murmurs, his ears and neck getting hot. “Missed you.”
Satoru squeals a little, not enough to annoy Suguru. “I missed you too!” he giggles, quickly opening and then locking his arms around Suguru, causing both their bodies to almost topple to the side.
Suguru makes a concerning sound.
Satoru pulls back. “You okay?”
Suguru considers lying. This is a rare and precious moment they have between the overload of missions Satoru has recently on honing his abilities. He’s been lying to his love for months.
Suguru shakes his head, his lungs taking a halting inhale.
Satoru’s hand finds the crown of his head and slides down his greasy hair to cup the back of his skull, fingers splaying so Suguru doesn’t have to support himself so much. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“I’ve been…um…” Suguru's voice dies. “I—my mental h-health…”
Satoru's eyes soften. “I know, sweetheart. I know what you're trying to tell me,” he murmurs, managing to undo a knot by carding his fingers to the end of Suguru's hair. “You're not feeling too hot?”
Suguru doesn't even have the energy to nod. He slumps until his head is against Satoru's chest, his waterline burning for the first time in a while. A hiccuping gasp claws its way up his chest.
“Suguru, baby, you're okay. You're okay,” Satoru soothes, leaning down to hug Suguru, idly petting his hair. “I've got you. I don't think any differently of you. We'll just handle it exactly like last time. I'm here.” He presses his palm between the warmth of Suguru's shoulder blades, kneading his stiff muscles slightly.
He feels Satoru maneuvering his body, using his legs to scoot Suguru's own barely over, a small adjustment to make them both comfortable. Suguru reaches his arms around Satoru's neck as if he is about to be lifted for further comfort.
Satoru whispers something he can't hear. It rumbles throughout his chest and soothes his racing heart—words of praise, maybe. For being so brave. For telling him things, like he's offered many times in the drop of a hat, during every smallest hint of distress in Suguru. Too many emotions are bubbling up and spilling around the edges, and he doesn't want to stain Satoru with his troubles.
“M'fine, s-sorry…” scrapes from his throat, a spoken reflex from being vulnerable.
Satoru begins rocking them both. “I know. It's okay. You don't need to apologize for anything.”
Suguru hums a response. Satoru knows. Knows all his arguments and excuses, tricks and secrets under the mask. A single tear that took everything to fight back slips from the corner of his eye, he's aware, and fades into Satoru's uniform. Suguru was the first person he came to immediately after the mission, even though it was an odd hour of the night.
Another one. Salty and wet.
A third one, quick in succession. Cold.
He shivers in Satoru's grasp, and then his diaphragm shifts, pulling a searing breath into his stuttering lungs. A sob ruins his frame, carefully made during the day, but now aching under Satoru's hands. His legs curl closer, but are stopped by Satoru, gently making sure he stays sprawled out. Always so attentive. It helps with breathing.
Yet, he chokes out, “H-Hurts—”
Satoru squeezes him lightly as he moves. “Show me where?” he requests, not pointing out the mortifying fact that Suguru is crying.
Satoru doesn't mind, he hopes.
Suguru gestures clumsily around his abdomen.
“Good job. It’s probably your breathing and other things that’re making your body upset. I’ll help you,” Satoru assures.
He’s right, so Suguru takes an unprompted few deep breaths.
Satoru brushes away his messy bangs. “Amazing, sweetheart. I saw you breathe. I know you’re doing everything you can,” he whispers over Suguru’s sniffling, and he’s quickly recovering from the initial bout of crying with Satoru’s love.
Suguru nods. He’s right again. He’s trying his best, even if he feels like he’s lacking; he should believe Satoru if he says he’s doing well.
“Tell me the last time you ate? Drank water?” Satoru mentions and pauses. “Did you have water today?”
Suguru slowly shakes his head. He hasn’t left bed for a while, but he hasn’t been in it for a full 24 hours either.
“Can I pick you up?”
Suguru’s face heats up once more. He nods, burying his face in Satoru’s chest with shuddering gasps.
Satoru quite literally carries him down the hall, outside his dorm, mimicking how Suguru would carry him during migraines. An ember of joy warms his core, just a little. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this.
Satoru feels a vague dryness in his mouth. Thirsty. Probably the only identifiable sensation in his body. He keeps his head down, not wanting to be blinded by the motion detection lights. He's been so fucking tired, and nothing matters. Suguru pushes his head harder against Satoru's sternum, a choked little whimper in his aching throat.
Satoru's hand comes to rub his shoulders. “Do you have a headache?”
“Intrusive thoughts,” he mumbles.
“I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm gonna get you some water, and we'll figure it out from there. You don't have to say anything you don't want to unless you think you're in danger, but you're safe with me,” Satoru comforts, and Suguru snuggles against him.
“Haven't done anything bad, jus’ tired,” Suguru clarifies, not wanting to worry Satoru. It's the truth.
Satoru hums, pleased. “That's amazing, baby. You've done so well.”
Suguru feels the weight of Satoru's kiss against his hair. God, he loves pet names and affection.
They reach the communal kitchen within the dorm building, and Suguru searches nervously for another student who could enter the area. Not that he has many classmates anyway. Shoko is the only risk for walking in during this time of morning. She’d never judge Suguru for his mental health, as she’s practically the nurse and therapist for their small school. She's seen everything.
Suguru stiffens as he sits on one of the barstools, legs dangling slightly, and the fridge gleams in his line of sight next to Satoru. Wordlessly, Satoru opens it and extracts two bottles of water, as well as some half-eaten chocolate that has been in there for an unknown amount of time. Suguru watches the bottle condensate and fog as it’s set onto the countertop.
“I ate half before my mission,” Satoru explains, smiling as he peels the wrapping further down on the cold chocolate bar. “I know you like sweets when you’re upset, just like me!”
Suguru nods slowly, Satoru’s love practically dipping his brain in glitter. “Thank you. You sure you don’t want it?” Suguru asks, using the implied consent of Satoru handing him the bar.
“Nope! It’d make me happier seeing you eat it. No rush, of course,” Satoru says. He takes his sunglasses off and closes his eyes as he talks, his other hand digging into his pocket for a roll of bandages.
Suguru sits straighter. “Are you hurt?”
“No, no.” Satoru smiles, though his eyes are still closed. “Bandages. For my eyes.”
“Are your glasses not working anymore?” Suguru motions for Satoru to come closer.
His face seems to drop a little, and his breath flows deeper. Despite this, he makes a happy sound at the opportunity to have Suguru drone around his face. “They’re fine. I just… kinda need extra lately, and last week Shoko put some of these over my eyes, and the pain went away,” he whispers, emphasizing the bandages by shaking them. His tense shoulders visibly unclench when Suguru presses his palm against Satoru’s eyes and uses even more pressure from his other hand upon it.
“Damn it, Satoru,” Suguru breathes quietly, exasperated but with the fond tone he typically uses with Satoru.
“Are you mad at me?” Satoru grins nervously, because it’s strained around the edges.
“No. I just don’t want you in pain.”
“I’ll tell the stupid higher-ups that I’m taking time off to hang out with my bestie.”
“Okay, okay,” Suguru snorts, finding something amusing for the first time in weeks.
Satoru chuckles and parts from Suguru’s touch so he can wrap the bandages around his eyes. Suguru still reaches up, though, and makes sure that clumps of Satoru’s hair don’t get trapped in the equally white material.
“Do I look okay?”
“You look beautiful. Are you insecure about it?”
“No, couldn't care less,” Satoru attempts to grate out under the ever-growing joy and flush dusting his face. “Thanks.”
Suguru nods, his dark eyes wide and curious about what Satoru is going to do next. “Why’d you bring me here?” Suguru knows he was much less aware in his distressed state a few minutes ago, and the memories are already growing fuzzy.
“So you can get some fuel, duh,” Satoru states, tapping the chocolate bar that he had passed earlier. “My handsome face, some food, and water.”
“Yeah, yeah–You’re gorgeous, everyone knows it.”
“I wanted to make sure you know how jaw-dropping I am,” he says.
“I’ve seen you when you’re sick, Satoru. Diarrhea is the only thing you’ve never shown me. You’re still very beautiful, okay?”
Satoru bursts out laughing, and Suguru smiles.
“You’re pretty too,” he murmurs, leaning to press a kiss into his hair.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” Suguru whispers back, nearly getting embarrassed to finish his sentence.
“Now, eat,” Satoru drawls out, tapping more vigorously around the chocolate.
Suguru picks it up and appreciates the micro boost the sugar has given him. He’s still not hungry at all, though. He chugs some water, but stops at the slightest hint of discomfort. Beside him the entire time, Satoru has been pretending to be on his phone, but Suguru knows he’s just scrolling with the keys up and down his contacts.
Satoru stands and announces, “I’ll take your trash.” He moves to take Suguru’s wrapper and mostly empty water bottle, grabbing him a new one on the way back. “I’ll help you do some self-care this weekend, okay? We’ll wash your hair, and I’ll help you clean your room, baby,” Satoru says, automatically helping Suguru to pull his loose and tangled hair behind his shoulders when he’s seen messing with it.
“What’s today?”
“Uh…. Saturday, technically. I’ll stay with you tonight.”
His chest aches. “You don’t have to do that.”
“But are you okay with me being here?’
Suguru nods.
“That’s all the confirmation I need.”
“Sorry I fell off again. I thought I was better,” Suguru admits, fidgeting his fingers in his lap. “I must stink.”
“Nah, sweetie. You’re good. And remember, recovery isn’t linear, alright?”
“I know. Thank you,” Suguru responds, rubbing his eyes.
Satoru giggles, and Suguru’s mind is blank in a good way.
“I’ll carry you back, too!” Satoru opens his arms and waves them.
Suguru reaches up. “I need a hair tie."
Satoru complies immediately, bear-hugging him as he’s lifted. “I’ll get you one, don’t worry,” he responds lightly, with only one goal: keeping Suguru as happy as possible.
It’s easier when they’re together.