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Yuuta had learned there was a difference between forgetting and not remembering. Forgetting meant Toge would eventually laugh, snap his fingers, and sign that he'd left his phone in the kitchen again. Not remembering meant he would stop in the middle of a room, brows pinched with quiet frustration, staring at something as ordinary as a toothbrush as though it belonged to somebody else.
The occupational therapist had explained that routines would return with time, familiarity would help and to use gentle reminders, never pressure him.
So, Yuuta reminded him.
Every morning he rested a folded change of clothes on the bathroom counter before Toge woke up. He set his toothbrush beside his own with toothpaste already waiting, and while the kettle warmed the apartment with soft whistles, he packed Toge's medication into a small container before laying it beside a mug of tea. None of it was dramatic or focused on and none of it felt like he was sacrificing Toge’s recovery.
It simply became the shape of their mornings.
"Takana.." Toge murmured one day, lingering in the hallway with damp hair and a puzzled expression. His gaze drifted from the shoes by the door to the empty hook beside them.
Yuuta looked up from tying his own laces. "Your keys?"
Toge blinked, his eyes lingering on that space before slowly nodding.
"You left them in yesterday's jacket." Yuuta smiled, already crossing to the closet. "You always put them there when you're tired."
He slipped the keyring into Toge's waiting hand without another word and a faint crease remained between Toge's brows. He looked embarrassed more than anything and Yuuta felt for him.
He reached over and straightened the collar of his boyfriend’s sweater. "You're doing better than you think."
Toge searched his face for a long moment before offering the smallest smile. “Shake."
"I’m proud of you."
By afternoon they'd wandered through the neighbourhood together, stopping at the little bakery Toge had loved before the accident. The woman behind the counter greeted him warmly, already reaching for his favourite order before hesitating when his confusion became obvious.
Yuuta answered with an easy smile instead. "Two tuna mayo onigiri, please."
When they were outside, Toge stared at the wrapper in his hands.
"Tsuna?"
"Almost every Friday."
"..Sujiko?"
"You insisted nowhere else made it properly."
Toge paused and thought about it before he finally let out a soft laugh, nodding along as if that did sound like him.
Later, back home, Yuuta found Toge standing in the kitchen again, frozen in front of the cupboards. The rice cooker sat open on the counter, uncooked rice still in the measuring cup.
Toge looked over his shoulder with visible defeat. "Okaka."
Yuuta walked over without making a fuss. "You measured the rice already, we just have to wash it first."
He poured the rice into the cooker pot and placed it beneath the tap and guided Toge through the motions they had once done side by side hundreds of times. Swirl. Drain. Repeat.
I keep needing you. Toge signed slowly once the rice began to cook, each movement careful as he searched for words that memory hadn't stolen. You shouldn't have to remind me about everything.
Yuuta stepped closer until their shoulders touched, washing the vegetables they were planning to have with their rice and meat. "I don't mind reminding you." He said quietly. "I only mind when you think you're a burden."
Toge lowered his eyes, looking so guilty.
"You spent years looking after me too." Yuuta smiled, thinking back to missions, days when he hadn’t felt his best, long nights neither of them had spoken much through but recharged just being in each other's vicinity. "Love changes jobs sometimes and right now, mine just happens to include reminding you where your keys are..or how to wash the rice again."
Toge's eyes softened when he looked up at him again, the tension finally leaving his shoulders. He leaned forward until his forehead rested lightly against Yuuta's shoulder.
Yuuta stayed there with him, dropping his head against Toge’s, listening to the familiar start of bubbling with the rice cooker in its starting cycle, finding unexpected comfort in that ordinary sound. Maybe his memories would return all at once. Maybe it would come back one tiny habit at a time.
Until then, Yuuta was always going to be there all the same.