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The sound of water filled Satoru's senses, his ears ached from the intensity of it. A small, short sound felt like static – loud, all-consuming in a way that he wishes he could forget. The water spills into the bathtub relatively quickly, his eyes flicking over it and waiting for the temperature to be not too cold, not too hot either. His hand brushed against the water, face blank when he felt it against his fingers, glistening over his neatly manicured nails, plain and clear yet clearly taken care of. Rough around the edges, showing his strength and his service for the world he has done.
He takes his hand off. Nods to himself. Soft lashes fluttering whenever he blinks, standing up from his knee to begin undressing himself. He turns to the mirror, eyes flicking over his body, battered and beaten. It looks like he's been through many battles – which he has, countless, ones that he couldn't really have a say in fighting. He's the strongest, right? He always has to take care of everyone. Even if he's tired, he must keep his guard up in hopes that no one gets hurt, that no one thinks he's useless.
He looks at himself close, chest rising and falling steadily. He's quiet today, a deep ache in his chest that he never really allows himself to feel. It's heavy today, this feeling of dread when he thinks for too long, the melancholic feeling he gets when he looks at his body filled with countless scars.
He takes off his boxers with shaky fingers, fingers hooking around the waistband, letting them drop to the ground with the rest of his clothes. Standing still, long fingers trace over his muscles, his abdomen where the scars are most prominent. He thinks it's hideous deep inside, but he would never admit something so vulnerable. Something that he doesn't really let anyone know about it, even hiding it from Suguru most of the time. He's shameful of his scars, even though he's been told it makes him look stronger – but does it? Or does he look pathetic?
He sighs, barely a whisper, turning away quickly from the mirror. He turns to the bathtub, bending to begin fixing the mat on the floor. He puts one foot in the tub, pleased with the temperature. The water doesn't sound so loud now, but he still turns it off either way, just to ease his headache. With a soft mumble, he climbs into the bathtub, sinking down into the warmed water slowly. His body aches in ways that he couldn't explain, something that regular people would never understand. They could never bear the weight of the world on their shoulders, they could never have to keep their guard up 24/7 – they don't know what it's like not to feel alien, not a human like the rest of them.
The water is warm and soothing on his skin, long legs curling up slightly, making himself smaller. The scars burn a bit when his skin rubs against each-other, his arm against thigh, thigh against bathtub. He doesn't react, not to the physical aspect, not to the electricity moving through his body that feels tortuous – he's been through worse, anyway.
Today, it felt different. Worse. Something he hasn't felt in a long time. A deep ache in his bones, his chest, his brain is fogged up with old memories and barely able to remember the new ones. Not completely gone, just temporarily shielded by his body – forgetting unimportant things to protect it, to make sure he doesn't collapse on the floor. His feet rub together in the tub, soap lathering on his body when he cleans his arms with a freshly cleaned rag. It gently moves over the healed scars, his eyes desperate to be fixed on everything else but those raised lines.
His hand moves without thought, scrubbing away the dirt, spaced out, wondering how long it'll take for him to be clean and lay in bed with his husband. Suguru is nearly all the time on his mind – he always has, to tell the truth. His Suguru, even in the darkest of yearning nights on both of their behalf flooded his damaged brain, how the water at the shore devours the sand, dragging it down with it. His body gets used to the warm water, other hand mindlessly twitching, pupils dilating at the mere thought of Suguru. His first love, last love, his one and only love. His days go beautifully when Suguru is around, that sharp smile and those warm, amber eyes in which can send him miles away from his harsh reality of being the strongest. His lips curve into a smile, twitchy, hand pausing momentarily on the rag when he thinks of Suguru.
God, he loves him so much that he can't imagine a life without him. He would never forget Suguru. No matter how damaged his brain gets, no matter how many fuzzy days he has of sometimes dropping a plate on the floor or when he wakes up screaming for Suguru – wide blue eyes filled with tears, shaking, even after the worst nightmare he just wants Suguru.
His eyes flick again to his fingers, tainted with scars and faint calluses, moving slowly over his skin. His body filled with exhaustion and this electric feeling slowly eases down into something calmer.
"Satoru?"
His eyes move slowly, less sharp than usual, slower and weak. Suguru. That's.. Suguru, calling him out, right? That's his voice. Soft, nervous in a way that he might think something happened.
"Hm..," he mumbled, fiddling with his fingers, eyes locked on the closed door.
"Hey. Can I come in, Satoru? Are you okay?"
"M'fine. Jus'.. tired. Don't have to come in if you don't want to."
He felt funny. It's unusual, usually he's so healthy and strong, his brain and constant looking around keeps him on his toes. But right now, everything is fuzzing up. Everything is slowly starting to blur around the edges, his head lolling to the side as he lets himself drift in and out of consciousness. This is different. Alien. Something that's unlikely of him.
His head is pounding. It's sudden, almost like a rush of fogginess shooting through him. He feels like he's not really there for a moment, the world around him spinning. The water doesn't look real. His body doesn't feel real. His eyes close, a shaky breath escaping his mouth.
He tries to call out for Suguru. He tries, but nothing comes out of his mouth. He can't speak properly, his brain not connecting to his mouth properly. He looks up at the door, seemingly regretting ever taking a bath by himself.
He just wanted to prove he could do it on his own still. That he's still the strongest after all these years, that even after the accidents, he still is just as capable as before. That he's still Satoru Gojō.
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Suguru quieted when he heard those words come out of his husband's mouth. Don't have to? That's not like him at all. He's usually clinging to Suguru's hip, whining to join him in the bath and to wash his back because he doesn't want to do it.
Don't have to?
His brows furrowed, mind going to all these terrible scenarios in his head. Is Satoru having a brain freeze? Is he forgetting how to talk right now? Maybe he's confused, or he's about to faint. That's one of Suguru's worst fears, Satoru getting worse with his brain health and him not being able to save him.
Recently, his brain has been getting fogged up quicker after the incident. After his life was almost taken away from him, after he almost lost him to the hands of that man. His guard, at the last moment shot up. At some point, Satoru is getting older – his brain isn't as sharp and witty as it used to be. Some days are worse than others, but it's gotten to the point where he forgets how to talk or walk for short periods of time, or he has meltdowns about finding the wrong words in his scrambled brain, the worst one being his emotion heightening.
Suguru's heart begins to race, surely Satoru is ill. His eyes scan over the doorknob quick, before hovering his hand over it.
"Satoru, I'm going to come inside the bathroom."
"…"
Suguru's heart pounds against his chest, opening the door quickly, scanning the room until his eyes lock on Satoru. He's slowly slipping into the bath water, eyes opening and closing, like he's trying to stay awake in desperate measures. His lips are opened barely, hand weakly clutching his other one. His head turns to Suguru, lashes wet and gray, pupils dilated almost to the point of blue eyes not being visible anymore. He trembles, subtle, but it's still there. Still visible to Suguru.
"Satoru–? Shit–!" He whispered, eyes widening and nearly tripping over his own feet, chest rising and falling faster and faster. He grabs Satoru's wrist, feeling his pulse, it's there – a bit slow, but it's definitely there. Tears flooded his eyes, draining the water out of the tub, reaching into the water and wrapping his arms around Satoru in desperate measures to get him out of the tub. "Satoru, Satoru, hey– sweetheart, can you hear me? Can you hear me good? You understand me? It's me, Suguru, okay? I'm right here.."
"S'gu.. mm.." he mumbled, eyes half lidded, pupils swallowing his eyes and head lolled to his side, limp body heavy in Suguru's arms. Wet hair drips onto his scarred face, hands trembling and trying to grab, but they can't. They're weakened right now.
"Okay, okay.." Suguru choked, tears flooding down his face in fear, the fear of losing this sweet man. His arms move under Satoru's thighs, his clothes wet now – but he doesn't care, that's the least of his problems. He lifts Satoru up into his arms, holding the man tight, steadying himself and quickly moving to the bedroom. "Can't have you sleeping, sweet thing, stay awake for me, okay? Can you do that?"
Satoru blinks, looking at him with a confused face. He nods anyway, clutching at Suguru's shirt on his back, the familiar scent of his cologne easing the fuzziness in his head. His head rests on Suguru's shoulder, breathing him in, legs dangling above the floor limp and weakened.
"M'awake.."
"I know. I know, Satoru, that's so good, yeah? So good, still able to listen to me when your brain feels bad. Can you still see?" He pads his socked feet against the floor, quickly grabbing a towel to wrap his husband up in before lowering him onto the bed, propped up against pillows. He knew he should've came in the bathroom earlier. This is all his fault. He kneels down on one knee, holding Satoru's hand, looking up at him with soft eyes. "Satoru?"
Satoru nods.
"Okay. Okay, that's good. Good."
He gets off of the knee, quickly going to their dresser. He pulls out some comfortable fit clothing, the ones without the tags, searching for comfortable boxers and a loose-fitting shirt. He chooses one of his own, he knows that the shirts cologne and faint smell of cigarettes will bring a sense of familiarity to his husband – anything to bring him back to his senses would be of help. He lets out a shaky breath, holding the big, gray shirt and soft black boxers – walking over to Satoru and laying them on the bed.
"I'm going to help you to put these clothes on." Suguru mumbles, stretching the waistband of the boxers and getting them over his feet, up Satoru's scarred legs. He looks up at him again, eyes flickering with worry when Satoru stays limp against the pillows. His cheeks are red, blue eyes losing focus, seemingly humiliated by being unable to do the simple task of putting on his own underwear. "Hey. Lift your hips, hun. Please. You don't need to be embarrassed."
Satoru looks away. His fists bundle into the sheets, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, closing them so he doesn't have to bear the weight of humiliation, something he's always been scared of. Not being strong anymore to put on his own clothing, his own voice and brain fogging and unable to communicate.
"…"
Suguru's hands pause on his husband's thigh, feeling the tremble and shame in the silence – the growth of tension in his body that's unmistakably shame.
"Hey." Suguru whispers, moving his hands to cradle Satoru's face, warm tears slipping onto his fingers. "Hey. C'mon, love. None of that. It's okay. I promise. I'm here to help you, yeah? Remember when I was sick in the head and you helped me?"
Satoru sniffles. Tears flooded his cheeks, onto Suguru's hands, bare shoulders starting to tremble with the frustration of not being able to get his words out, and being seen as weak. He shakes his head no. He does remember, but that's not what he's saying no to. He's saying no to the "it's okay", because it's not. He's pathetic. He shouldn't need Suguru to do everything for him.
"N-no. It's – it's– different."
"Hm? How is it different?"
"Don't.. don't know."
"Yeah? You don't know?"
Satoru nods.
"Then does that mean maybe it isn't as different ?"
Satoru looks up again. Whines into Suguru's shoulder, bumping his head against the curve of his neck. "Hm.."
"C'mon, up and at em. Hips up. We need clothes on you."
Satoru reluctantly obeys, lifting his hips up, and Suguru quickly takes the opportunity to slip the boxers up his legs. He covers his naked body, moving the waistband comfortably, adjusting them to be good for him. He hums in approval, hands lingering at his hips, gently rubbing circles into the bones and muscle of Satoru's hip.
"There we go. Good. It wasn't that hard, hm?"
Satoru shakes his head no. A weak, tiny smile forming on his face, tears drying up. He covers his mouth, a tiny laugh escaping his lips, eyes crinkling at the corners, the crease of his eye wrinkling and white lashes fluttering. His red cheeks brighten up his whole face, long legs weakly kicking.
Suguru pauses grabbing the shirt, a grin forming on his face. He raises one brow, one hand reaching to ruffle Satoru's slowly drying hair.
"Funny, huh?"
Satoru nods.
The shirt in Suguru's hands scrunched up to the top, stretching it so it can fit over Satoru's head. He gently pulled it over, easing his arms up, tugging them through the sleeves. The cologne lingers in the air, and Satoru wiggles his way through the shirt. His face lights up at the mere familiarity, clinging onto the middle of it with his hands, feeling the softness of the material – the way there's no tag on it, the cigarette smell which he secretly likes, and it's warm, straight from the dryer. It's perfect. It's Suguru written all over it.
"S'warm. Like it." Satoru mumbled, looking back up at Suguru, heart not pounding as hard, his head a little fuzzy. His speech might be off for a little, specifically after his migraines or small episodes he struggles with verbalizing confidently. Therefore, is semi-verbal.
His speech gets slurred, jumbled up and sometimes uses the wrong words when he means something else. It's by no means unpredictable, just a bit confusing to understand. That's okay, though. Suguru will always be there to help take care of him during the times he can't seem to find the right words, or when the world is blurred around him.
Sometimes Satoru gets upset when his speech betrays him like this. It humiliated him to the point of tears the first time it happened – when they had one of their big arguments in the earlier days of their fixed-relationship, when things were still rocky and nearly toxic. They screamed at each-other, cursed energies flaring in the room – but when Satoru finally couldn't take it anymore, he broke down and covered his ears in pain. The migraine at the time was too much, his brain nearly forgetting where he was, mixing up words, almost crying.
They vow to try and fight a lot less nowadays now that they're older, and the state of Satoru's physical and mental health is not exactly fragile, but less strong than in his prime.
"I know. I put it in the dryer just for you. I thought you'd want to wear it." Suguru mumbled, wiping a stray tear from Satoru's eye, standing up quickly and then climbing into the bed to sit next to him. "How are you feeling now?"
Satoru's eyes follow him as he climbs onto their bed, blinking slowly, pupils dilating when he looks at Suguru. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath, babbling, before he tugs at Suguru's shirt. He nods multiple times.
"C'mon, sweetheart. I won't push you, but I need to make sure you can speak well. If not, then that's a problem. I need to hear your voice to make sure nothing is seriously wrong. Then I can hold you."
Satoru frowns. Suguru doesn't flinch, unwavering gaze locked on Satoru.
Satoru shakes his head no. Chest puffed, confident that Suguru will give him what he wants whether he speaks or not. Even when he's exhausted in his own body, he is still a major brat.
Suguru raises one brow. Arms move to cross against his chest, taking one deep breath. He knows he could easily win this little debate.
Satoru's shoulders slouch, and he makes a grumble.
"M'fine, Su'. Just tired. Can talk fine. Promise." He says quietly, grabbing Suguru's hand and putting it into his own palm. His hands, big and scarred and something that people would associate with power and strength is so gentle and soft with the ones he loves. "Can you hold me now? Please?"
Suguru softens up, hand curling into Satoru's, looking at him with those amber eyes that swallow his soul whole. He lays down on the bed facing Satoru, tugging him down with him with a small grunt. Satoru isn't a dainty man, neither is Suguru, but jeez – he is heavy. He wraps arms around him, resting his head on Satoru's chest, hands resting at the muscles of his back.
"You don't have to ask to be held by me. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You know how much that scares me, Satoru."
Satoru quiets down, heart slowing down, his own hands moving. One moves in Suguru's hair, the other resting on the small of his back.
"I know. M'sorry, baby. You know that I don't want you to be scared for me. I can handle myself, okay? You know I'd never let you down. M'strong still, ya know."
The way he said it was wary, doubtful in a way that never really is said before. He's usually so cocky, confident that he's the strongest because he is. But now, it's almost as if he's lost that spark. That spark of being capable. His voice wavers ever so slightly, voice cracking on some words, hand quickly stroking Suguru's hair to calm himself.
Suguru stays quiet.
"..Right? Still strong?" Satoru questions, more nervous than before, like hes doubting every bit of his identity. The strongest. Someone to look up to. Is he truly not that anymore? "Suguru?"
Suguru quickly snaps out of it, his cheek planted on Satoru's chest, and his eyes flick up once. His hands move, one to Satoru's back of his head, the other one moving a bit higher on his back. He's solemn, not babying his husband, just softening his body language so Satoru feels safer. So he doesn't feel like an outlier. He's just trying to find the right words.
"Of course, Satoru. Of course you're strong. You know you're strong. Just because it's not like 10 years ago, doesn't mean that you're weak at all. Look at you," he mumbles, "so strong, yeah? Survived so much, and you're still here. Still able to walk. Still talking. Still could lift everyone up in the air with one arm, still so smart and kind as you always are." He rubs small circles into Satoru's hair with his thumb, scratching at his scalp with his nails.
"And you know everyone says you're the strongest. They're not lying."
Satoru breaks out in a big smile, rocking back and forth and holding Suguru tight. He grins boyish against his hair, and he leans down to rest his cheek on Suguru's head.
"Suguru.. do you mean that?"
"I don't say things that I don't mean."
"Well, that's debatable."
Suguru rolls his eyes, continuously scratching at Satoru's scalp, nudging his nose into Satoru's neck lazily. His legs nestle, seeking the warmth under the blanket, trying to nearly climb into Satoru. No, not like that. Suguru nudges Satoru's leg with his socked foot, rubbing them in circles against the sheets and Satoru's legs showing his enjoyment of holding each-other.
"Be quiet, Satoru."
Satoru pouts.
"You don't like it when I'm quiet, Su."
"Who said that? Not me." He mumbles, but it's not even close to the truth. He's a terrible liar. His face is brightening up with a smile.
"Tch. Suguru, you're so mean t'me. Your disabled husband is suffering.. and you continue to bully me. Oh, the tragedy. My heart. Woe is me, indeed, Suguru.." he whines, drawling out his words, hand resting on Suguru's back starts scratching. "I think I deserve a 10 page apology."
Suguru side eyes him. He cringes immediately, stopping scratching his scalp, and just stares at him. Seriously. What the fuck.
"You are so corny."
"That was really good. Didn't I sound like Edgar Allen Poe?"
"No."
"Suguru! Come on, you're no fun. I really did!"
"Satoru, it's bed time. I want to sleep."
Satoru grins, a laugh escaping as he rocks them again, cradling Suguru in his arms. His eyes start closing, a big yawn escaping, exhaustion taking over once again in the now comfortable silence. He strokes Suguru's back, tracing the tattoos on his back over the shirt without even looking.
"Mm. Okay, fine. We can sleep."
"I wasn't asking you, I was telling you. We're going to bed."
"Hey! Suguru, c'mon! This has to be considered bullying or something. An assortment of a power dynamic… oh, the outrage."
"You're stronger than me."
"Okay, but I'm disabled. So does it really count?"
"Satoru, stop that."
"It's true though!"
"No it isn't. Just 1 month ago you obliterated a curse with ease. I struggled to take it on."
"That doesn't count either."
"Satoru. Sleep, damn it. I'm tired."
Satoru shifts, laying on his back, letting Suguru follow along. He grins, lazy, pupils still a bit dilated but now better. He finally calms himself down, opening his arms for Suguru to come along. He's tired now, maybe it's time for rest.
Suguru climbs into his arms, his weight and warmth grounding the other man quickly. He rests his head on Satoru's arm, eyes closing slowly, hand resting on Satoru's stomach. He presses his cheek to Satoru's arm, dozing off slowly but surely.
Satoru looks down at him and smiles, cheeks flushing, free hand taking Suguru's and kissing his palm.
"Goodnight, baby."
"Goodnight."
Satoru leans over to kiss Suguru's lips, soft and playful. Suguru reciprocates, letting his lips press against Satoru's slowly and tenderly. As soon as Satoru is about to pull away, Suguru leans back in, opening his eyes again. He kisses him, slower this time.
"Mmh.. Suguru.." He laughs breathlessly against warm lips, hand resting at Suguru's head when he kisses him again. He parts his lips ever so slightly, letting a few more minutes go by before they finally pull back. "You're greedy."
Suguru blinks, cheeks flushed, a cheeky smirk on his face when he shoves his head back onto Satoru's arm.
"Is it a crime that I wanted a kiss?"
"You almost ate me."
"No I didn't."
Satoru laughs, holding Suguru now, keeping him close. His heart pounds against his chest, steady now, no palpitations. His eyes close, kissing the top of Suguru's head.
"Goodnight, Suguru. Seriously. Nighty night."
"Night." Suguru mumbles back, dozing off for real.
Satoru lays back against the pillows, holding the sleeping man in his arms, yawning himself. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better brain day, but he can't bring himself to tell Suguru how bad it's been recently. At-least every night for as long as he will live, he gets to be held like this. Like hes something precious still, like he deserves to be loved by someone.
He smiles weakly to himself, before closing his eyes. He probably wont sleep yet, he never does right away. But he's at rest now, and hopefully he'll get better soon.