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The apartment was unusually quiet.
No TV. No sarcastic comments from Sanemi. No sound of dishes clattering around in the kitchen.
Just the soft hum of rain outside and the painful twist in Giyu’s stomach that made him curl tighter beneath the blanket.
He had been trying to ignore it all day.
At first it was just discomfort. Then cramping. Then nausea so sharp it made his face pale and clammy.
Now he was lying miserably on the couch, one arm wrapped around his stomach while the other weakly held his phone.
Sanemi: u alive?
Giyu stared at the message for a long moment before slowly typing back.
Giyu: mhm
A few seconds later:
Sanemi: that's not convincing
Giyu sighed softly.
He hadn’t told Sanemi he felt sick because honestly? Sanemi worried too much. The man acted aggressive and foul-mouthed toward everyone else, but when it came to Giyu, he became unbearably attentive.
And Giyu didn’t want to be babied over a stomachache.
Unfortunately, Sanemi apparently knew him too well.
The front door suddenly unlocked.
Giyu blinked.
Heavy footsteps approached quickly.
“Oi.”
Sanemi rounded the corner into the living room still wearing his work clothes, white hair damp from the rain. The second his eyes landed on Giyu, his expression changed instantly.
“…Shit.”
Giyu looked awful.
Pale face. Sweaty skin. Curled up like he was trying to protect himself from the pain.
Sanemi dropped his bag on the floor immediately and crouched beside the couch.
“How long’s your stomach been hurting?”
Giyu avoided eye contact. “Since this morning.”
“This morning!?” Sanemi snapped.
Giyu flinched slightly.
Sanemi exhaled hard through his nose and rubbed his face. “Sorry. Sorry. Fuck—why didn’t you tell me?”
“It wasn’t that bad earlier.”
“And now?”
“…Bad.”
Sanemi’s entire face softened at the quiet answer.
Without another word, he pressed the back of his hand against Giyu’s forehead. Slight fever. Great.
“Did you eat?”
Giyu hesitated.
Sanemi narrowed his eyes. “Tomioka.”
“…No.”
“Jesus Christ.”
Sanemi stood up immediately. “Okay. Don’t move.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Smartass.”
Normally Sanemi would’ve barked the insult with heat behind it, but right now his voice was gentler than usual.
Giyu listened quietly as Sanemi moved around the kitchen.
Cabinets opening.
Water running.
Microwave beeping.
Every now and then Sanemi would yell something from the kitchen.
“Did you throw up?”
“Once.”
“Any diarrhea?”
“…That’s private.”
“You’re sick, not mysterious.”
Despite himself, Giyu smiled faintly into the couch cushion.
A few minutes later, Sanemi returned carrying a bowl of plain soup and a heating pad.
“Sit up.”
“I can do it myself.”
“I know you can. I’m still helping.”
Sanemi slid one arm carefully behind Giyu’s back and helped him sit upright slowly.
The movement made Giyu wince sharply.
Sanemi immediately frowned. “That bad?”
Giyu nodded weakly.
“…Damn.”
Sanemi placed the heating pad against Giyu’s stomach carefully before handing him the soup.
“Small bites. Slow.”
Giyu obediently took a few spoonfuls while Sanemi sat beside him watching like an angry guard dog.
“You’re staring,” Giyu muttered.
“Yeah. Making sure you don’t pass out.”
“I’m not that fragile.”
“You text like a dying Victorian child when you’re sick.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“You literally replied ‘mhm.’”
Giyu quietly sipped his soup to hide another tiny smile.
Sanemi noticed anyway.
His expression softened immediately.
God. Giyu looked so pretty even while sick.
Messy dark hair. Sleepy eyes. Wrapped in blankets.
Sanemi felt his chest ache.
“…Still hurting?”
“A little less.”
“Good.”
After Giyu finished eating, Sanemi took the bowl away before returning with medicine and water.
Giyu swallowed the pills obediently.
Then, before he could react, Sanemi gently pulled him closer until Giyu’s head rested against his chest.
“…Sanemi.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re being clingy.”
“And you’re sick.”
Sanemi adjusted the blanket around him carefully, one hand rubbing slow circles over Giyu’s stomach through the heating pad.
The warmth actually helped.
A lot.
Giyu relaxed little by little against him.
The rain outside grew heavier.
For a while neither of them spoke.
Then quietly, almost embarrassed, Giyu mumbled:
“…Thank you.”
Sanemi looked down at him.
Giyu rarely said things like that aloud.
Sanemi’s ears turned slightly pink.
“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled softly. “Like I’d leave you alone when you feel like shit.”
Giyu’s eyes drifted shut from exhaustion.
Sanemi kept rubbing gentle circles against his stomach the entire time until Giyu finally fell asleep against him.
Sanemi stayed on the couch for nearly twenty more minutes after Giyu fell asleep.
Mostly because every time he tried to move, Giyu unconsciously curled closer against him.
Not that Sanemi minded.
At all.
The heating pad rested over Giyu’s stomach while his breathing stayed slow and sleepy against Sanemi’s chest. His face looked softer asleep—less guarded, less tense.
Sanemi brushed a few strands of black hair away from his forehead carefully.
Giyu shifted faintly at the sound of his voice, brow furrowing for a second before relaxing again.
Sanemi’s chest tightened.
Fuck. He hated seeing him sick.
Eventually, Sanemi glanced toward the hallway leading to their bedroom.
The couch wasn’t exactly comfortable, and Giyu would probably wake up with worse body aches if he stayed there all night.
“…Alright,” Sanemi sighed softly. “Bedtime.”
Very carefully, he slid one arm beneath Giyu’s knees and the other around his back.
The moment Giyu was lifted from the couch, he made a small sound of protest and instinctively grabbed onto Sanemi’s shirt weakly.
“Nemi…”
Sanemi froze for half a second.
That sleepy nickname always hit him directly in the chest.
“I got you,” he murmured immediately. “Go back to sleep.”
Giyu relaxed again after hearing his voice.
Sanemi carried him down the hallway slowly, trying not to jostle him too much. Giyu stayed tucked against his chest the entire time, warm and limp from exhaustion.
By the time Sanemi reached the bedroom, his heart already felt stupidly full.
He carefully laid Giyu down onto the bed.
The second Sanemi pulled away to grab another blanket, pale fingers weakly caught the sleeve of his shirt.
Sanemi looked down.
Giyu’s eyes were barely open.
“…Don’t go.”
Sanemi practically melted on the spot.
“I’m not leaving, idiot.”
Giyu still looked unconvinced in his half-asleep state.
Sanemi clicked his tongue softly before climbing into bed beside him.
“See? Happy now?”
Instead of answering, Giyu immediately scooted closer until he was pressed against Sanemi’s side.
Sanemi huffed quietly.
“So clingy when you’re sick.”
“…Warm,” Giyu mumbled against his chest.
“Yeah?”
Giyu nodded weakly.
Sanemi pulled the blankets higher around both of them before wrapping an arm securely around Giyu’s waist.
Almost immediately, Giyu relaxed completely against him.
The room stayed dim except for the soft yellow light from the bedside lamp and the sound of rain tapping against the windows.
Sanemi continued rubbing slow circles against Giyu’s stomach under his shirt.
Every now and then Giyu would flinch faintly from another cramp, and each time Sanemi’s hand would gently soothe over the spot until the tension eased again.
“…Still hurts?” Sanemi whispered.
“A little.”
“You wanna go to the doctor tomorrow if it’s still bad?”
Giyu buried his face deeper into Sanemi’s chest dramatically.
Sanemi snorted softly. “I’ll take that as a yes but you’re gonna complain about it.”
“No hospitals.”
“You say that now until you start dying.”
“I’m not dying.”
“You looked close earlier.”
Giyu made a sleepy offended noise.
Sanemi grinned faintly and pressed a kiss to the top of his hair.
That seemed to surprise Giyu more than the teasing.
He tilted his head up slightly, blue eyes sleepy and unfocused.
“…You kissed me.”
“Congratulations. You discovered affection.”
“You’re usually meaner.”
“Shut up before I take it back.”
But Sanemi’s hand never stopped rubbing his stomach gently.
Giyu stared at him quietly for a few seconds before speaking in a small voice.
“…I like when you take care of me.”
Sanemi’s entire face softened instantly.
“…Yeah?”
Giyu nodded.
“Makes me feel safe.”
That nearly killed him on the spot.
Sanemi pulled him even closer against his chest until there was barely any space between them.
“You are safe,” he said quietly. “I got you.”
Giyu relaxed immediately after hearing that.
Within minutes, his breathing slowed again as sleep dragged him back under.
Sanemi stayed awake a while longer, listening carefully for any sign that Giyu felt worse.
But eventually, when Giyu sleepily tangled their legs together and unconsciously held onto Sanemi’s shirt again—
Sanemi finally let himself relax too.
Still holding him the entire night.