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Sakuya doesn't know when he's breaking down until it's too late.
As a child, his teachers used to comment that he was an excellent observer. He asked questions that would never even cross the other kids’ minds. He was perceptive to his peers’ emotions even when they insisted that they were fine. His classmates naturally gravitated toward him for that reason—they knew that Sakuya would always be there when they needed him.
Whenever those online personality quizzes asked the typical “what word would your friends use to describe you?” question, Sakuya didn't hesitate to click on ‘caring’ or anything synonymous to that. He wasn't exactly a mom friend, as he thinks that he's still too immature to be given such a role. However, growing up with a younger sister molded him into a reliable figure.
As attentive as he is, though, nobody ever seemed to notice that Sakuya was completely clueless when it came to his own feelings.
“Two cups… two cups of sugar,” he mutters to himself, mindlessly reaching for the measuring cup that had already been washed two times beforehand.
Sakuya guesses that another reason why his peers befriended him so early on was because of his baking. Then again, maybe that was the entire reason they talked to him in the first place. He's not really sure.
In elementary school, it wasn't uncommon for treats to be passed around on someone's birthday. It was almost customary, and days where cupcakes and cookies were given to them always felt like a holiday to Sakuya. Though, it didn't need to be Sakuya's birthday for him to distribute sweets to the class.
From a young age, he learned how to bake after long nights in the kitchen with his mother. He liked being helpful around the house, doing chores and whatnot. Baking, however, was never a chore to him. He'd consider it his first love—something that made him happy when his surroundings got too stressful. He would give away baked bread to his classmates on random days, as he believed that it would make them happy as well.
"A tablespoon of vanilla—shit," he curses, realizing that he used up all the vanilla extract on the chocolate chip cookies that are still in the oven. Sakuya groans as he walks away from the counter.
His childhood home always looked a mess whenever he and his mother baked. His father never minded though, and he and his sister would be the ones to clean the kitchen up as a token of gratitude for the treats. Even then, his blurry memories of messy kitchens couldn't hold a candle to the current state of his apartment.
The kitchen counter is nearly covered in flour, and the sink is piled with numerous bowls and cups. The now abandoned brownie mix is still on the counter, while the cookies are minutes away from being done. Not to mention, the only things inside his fridge right now are the two cupcake trays he made two hours ago.
Sakuya slumps to the floor, defeated. He could never tell when he's burning out because he never had to experience it. He could easily tell when his parents had a bad day at work or when his classmates did poorly on an exam, but he could never understand his own emotions.
Somewhere in his room, forgotten medical textbooks lay on his table. They're probably still open in the first chapter, his highlighters drying out from exposure. His finals are three days away, and he's rotting in his house and baking his stress away.
He laughs bitterly at the thought—it's a stupid coping mechanism, in his opinion. Sakuya knows that people react differently to burnout, but the predicament he's in is absolutely ridiculous. He doesn't register that he's crying until he feels a teardrop fall down his face, staining the floor. Seconds later, he lets himself go, loud sobs leaving his throat.
Sakuya hides his face into his knees, curling up into a ball. It's borderline painful every time he breathes out, and there's probably a medical reason why his chest feels like it's closing in, but he couldn't care enough to think about anything remotely close to anatomy right now.
Then, his phone rings in his pocket, and his body freezes as it occurs to him that it was already 8 o'clock. Ryo just got home from his last class, and it was time for their daily phone call.
Ryo was so similar, yet so different to him. When they first met in 8th grade, their homeroom teacher praised Ryo for being observant in class. Sakuya, being the petty teenager he was, ignored him during the first three months, because in his mind, he should be the most perceptive person in the room. It wasn't until Ryo got injured during a soccer game that Sakuya immediately ran over to help him despite never having spoken to him before.
He was the one who stayed with Ryo for two hours until his parents could pick him up. Sakuya was in no way obligated to do so, yet he was the one who volunteered to look after him, even if it meant leaving the game behind. Looking back at it, he supposes that it’s what people called the butterfly effect. Those two hours in the school clinic were what led to four years of pining and chasing until he eventually mustered the courage to tell Ryo what he really felt during their senior year. At the same time, he's regretful over the fact that it took him so long to confront his emotions, as they were already separated from each other one year into their relationship.
To Sakuya, the distance between Saitama and Kyoto meant nothing if it meant that he could see Ryo. During the first month of university, he would get up early on Sunday mornings to catch a train and visit Ryo at his apartment. They would cuddle on his bed and watch a movie, then Ryo would take him to one of his favorite restaurants before he kissed Sakuya goodbye at the train station. The younger felt that he was settling into a routine, but he forgot to take into account that they were two soon-to-be-busy med students.
Sakuya stares at the screen, pondering whether he should answer or not. He's letting out small hiccups now, managing to stifle his cries. He doesn't want Ryo to ever see him like this. The only difference between him and Ryo was that his boyfriend knew his own body better than anyone else's. Well, that's how everyone should be programmed to work, but the only thing that Sakuya couldn't seem to understand was himself. He doesn't have any telltale signs that say his body is going overdrive, and his brain doesn't have any idea how to cool it off either.
On the other hand, Ryo was much more open than he was. He always knew when he was going over his limits—he managed to overcome student council duties while maintaining his honor roll status, and it's all because he was aware of what he could handle. When he couldn't, though, he didn't need to think twice before coming over to Sakuya's and admitting that he's having a hard time. Sakuya remembers that it was the first time they'd cuddled before they became official. Ryo said he was his safe space, and Ryo was his, too.
With a shaky hand, he accepted the call before quickly turning off his audio and video.
“Saku-chan,” Ryo calls to him lazily from the other line. He was lying on his stomach, one of his plushies in his arms. Sakuya could tell that he was tired, and sometimes he wonders why the older forces himself to call even when his classes end so late. The sight of his boyfriend pouting in glasses is enough to shake the thought though, and as he places his hand against his chest, Sakuya could feel his heart rate gradually going down.
“We were in the lab all day for our chemistry test. I think I did good enough, but I’m not really sure.” He frowned, deep in thought. Ryo was always the first one to share details about his day whenever they called, and he always had to call Sakuya out for not listening to him. To be fair on Sakuya, how was he not supposed to stare when his boyfriend was the prettiest person on the planet and had a voice that soothed all his worries away?
“Saku. Saku,” Ryo repeats. It was normal for Sakuya to not respond during the first few minutes of their call with the staring and whatnot, but he knew he was distracted for a different reason this time. “Y’know, I can’t really joke about you being obsessed with me when you don’t have your camera on.” He laughs at his own words. “You’d probably say I can’t prove that you’re looking at me.”
Sakuya feels bad for not responding to him, so he decides to take a deep breath before pressing the unmute button. “I’m baking,” he answers simply.
Ryo tilts his head, raising a brow. “Don’t you have finals next week?” Right then, the oven beeps for his cookies, and all of the logic that got Sakuya into medical school immediately goes out the window.
“I actually need to go or else these will burn—”
“Sakuya.” His face is serious now, and Sakuya knows that he’s doomed when his full name is used. “You’re hiding something from me.”
He sighs, accepting that even Ryo knew him better than his own mind. Ryo is the only person he could be vulnerable with and confide in, and he’s always going to be thankful for that. “I think I’m burned out,” he admits, glancing at the still messy kitchen. “I realized that college was going to be hard when I couldn’t visit you anymore, but with finals coming up, I guess it was my last straw.”
From his screen, Ryo’s grip on his plushie tightens, resting his head on it as he attentively listens. “I tried to study earlier, and it was getting too much, so I decided to bake cupcakes to ease my mind for a while,” Sakuya explains, “but I’m somehow still here two hours later, and what you heard earlier were my cookies… and I have a discarded batch of brownie batter.”
Ryo laughs at the last part, though there’s still a frown on his face. “When you confessed to me last year, I told you that I’d liked you for a while as well, and I’d sometimes go to your house for no reason at all,” he says, and Sakuya still remembers how his cheeks flushed when he heard it for the first time. “But there were also times when I genuinely needed to go to you when I couldn’t handle things at school anymore, and I was grateful to know that you’d always be there.”
“I want you to know that I’ll always be there for you too, Saku.” Ryo smiles at him. “No matter how busy I am, I’ll always call you when I get home from school. You’re my safe space, and I want to be like that for you as well.”
“You already are,” Sakuya reassures him. His heartbeat is steady again. “Thank you, baby, I really needed to hear that.”
Ryo hums, straightening up. “I’m glad to hear that. Now let me see your face.”
Sakuya loudly protests, knowing that he very much looks like a mess right now. “Absolutely not! I’m still puffy.”
The smaller one uses his signature pout against him, and Sakuya is nothing but weak in the name of love, so he begrudgingly opens his camera.
“You look so cute!” Ryo coos at him, and he suddenly bursts into laughter. His boyfriend always seemed to have cuteness aggression toward anyone but him, so this was a completely new reaction.
“Don’t flatter me too much.” He chuckles seeing his own face on the side. He can’t understand how Ryo still finds him cute despite his flushed nose and puffy eyes, but he soon realizes that he felt the same toward Ryo.
“You should rest,” Ryo comments, noticing the time. “Clean up and then you can continue studying tomorrow, hm?”
Sakuya nods, agreeing with the idea. A part of him wants to keep talking, but he knows that Ryo is probably tired as well. “Okay… Same time tomorrow?” He asks.
Ryo giggles, and Sakuya can’t stop his face from blushing further at the sound. “Same time tomorrow,” he echoes. “I love you, Saku.”
“I love you, too.” He smiles, waiting a few seconds before hanging up.
Sakuya stays on the floor for a couple more minutes, staring into nothingness as he smiles to himself. He must’ve been a saint in his past life for Ryo to appear in his current one. Then, he finally stands up, putting the cookie tray and discarded brownie batter in the fridge before cleaning the counter.
Drowsiness hits him soon after, and Sakuya finds himself already lying on bed, his textbooks still on his table.
#
Whenever Sakuya got too stressed, he would wake up earlier than usual, a creeping unease urging him to start his day early. It always bugged him that the sun wasn’t even up by the time he opened his eyes, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it from happening.
The next day, however, the first thing he felt was the sunlight making its way into his room and shining on his face. Then, he felt something against his chest.
Sakuya groans, groggily forcing himself to open his eyes. His chest immediately starts racing when he comprehends he’s resting his chin on a familiar block of black hair smelling of lemon shampoo. He’s completely awake by this point, and it takes him a moment to realize he’s spooning what appears to be Ryo.
I must be dreaming, Sakuya thinks to himself. Then, he thinks that he’s probably so stressed out that he’s imagining that his boyfriend from three hours away is in his apartment—in his bed, nonetheless.
“No you aren’t,” Ryo replies lazily, and Sakuya is sure he’s going to have a heart attack soon. “Sometimes you say the things you’re thinking of out loud, and you don’t even notice it.”
He flips himself over, loosening himself from Sakuya’s grip. Ryo looks adorable with bedhair, and Sakuya has to fight the urge to kiss the smile away from his face. “Hi,” he says.
“Hi...?” Sakuya replies, unsure. “Are you sure I’m not dreaming?”
Ryo snickers, resting his head on Sakuya’s shoulder. “I took the first train this morning and used my spare key. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
He immediately shakes his head, kissing the top of Ryo’s head. “No, it’s just—don’t you have work to do?”
“I do,” he hums, “but I’d rather do it with you. And I miss your baking.”
Sakuya returns his hold on him, the heaviness in his heart suddenly disappearing. He doesn’t need any more recipes to cure his burnout when he has a much better solution now.