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demxters · 10 months

Text

—LOVING YOU IS ENOUGH

frat!jake seresin x f!reader

dagger squad college!au

summary: a week after the fight that tore you apart, jake finds out about the accident. (part 2 of a losing game)

wc: 9.3k

warning(s): 18+, fem!reader, no y/n (reader goes by nickname ace), recommended to read a losing game first, angst galore, swearing, mentions of alcohol, drunk driving (don't do it), bad parental relationships, academic pressure, hospitals, description of injuries

part of the loving you universe || find it on ao3 here

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!

Jake Seresin used to think he had no regrets in his life. Every time he was close to feeling as if that were so, the universe found a way to turn it around and prove to him that he made the right choice. Choosing to go to USC for instance, instead of staying in his home state of Texas, he thought was the biggest mistake he had made in his life. Then USC led him to Delta Chi where he made lifelong friends, and ultimately he met you. So no, Jake Seresin had no regrets in life. Yet as he sat under the fluorescent white lights of the sterile hospital waiting room, Jake was able to think of one.

All the days passed by in a blur, with Jake finding himself in a robotic routine that helped him get through the day:

Wake up

Go to class

Eat

Do not think about Ace

Nap

Eat

Do not think about Ace

(attempt to) Sleep

It wasn’t the healthiest of routines, but it was enough to keep him surviving. At least until he began receiving your texts. Your apologies and declarations of love made him weak, making it much harder for him to stand his ground and give himself the space that he told himself he needed. With each passing day, he found it harder to convince himself that space is what he actually wanted. So he silenced your notifications. The bright red badge continued to grow in number and it took all of his power to not give in and click your contact.

By the fifth day, Jake thought he was actually doing pretty well. He was even studying for his finals and going to every single one of his study groups that you had suggested he try. Even as one thing or another always led back to a reminder of you, his self control was much more restrained and he felt just a little bit lighter.

Jake missed you like hell, that was for sure. But maybe this fight was a sign for him to work on himself. To be better not just for you, but for himself as well.

So he did what he thought was best by pulling a page from your book and choosing to throw himself into his work. He shut everyone out, refusing to go to any outings with Javy and the gang. He didn’t answer his phone and barely left his room other than to go to classes or use the bathroom. Jake ignored the fact that in doing so, he was neglecting his physical and mental health. In turn, making this coping strategy of his more harmful than good. While he thought his obsession with his isolation and studying was “making himself better,” he didn’t realize that the only thing he was really doing was actively avoiding the problem at hand.

But as day seven rolled around, Jake’s fake it till you make it attitude came crashing down. Upon returning back to his and Javy’s shared room in the Frat House after his final exam, Jake fell onto his bed and finally let himself feel.

Jake Seresin has never felt so alone. After days of avoiding, he gave himself permission to think about you–to miss you. Remembering the last time he saw you and the last moment you shared, he could feel the tears that began to gather on his lash line. Too tired to hold it in, he let his emotions go. He let the sobs and cries for help he has been burying in his chest break free. He was tired, so damn tired, of pretending like everything was okay. Like he was okay.

He wanted someone to notice that something was off with him, that something happened to make him feel absolutely miserable in his own skin. However, everyone was too caught up in their own whirlwinds of final exams, studying, and relationships to notice that Jake was struggling to stay afloat without his life preserver–without you.

His heart ached and longed for you. Your voice, your touch, your love. If he could take it all back he would. He would’ve come back to you without a second thought. Jake would have gathered you in his arms and sat with you all night long until the two of you could work it out. Because he wasn’t Hangman anymore. He wouldn’t leave you out to dry. Yet somehow he managed to do exactly that.

With the only thing on his mind being you, he finally mustered up the courage to read all of the texts you had sent him days prior. The first few made his heart ache, reading your heartfelt apologies and declarations of love was enough to make him start crying all over again. Teary eyed smiles graced his features at your small anecdotes and pictures of things that reminded you of him.

He could hear your voice and see your mannerisms in his head at each text he reads through.

Jake’s euphoria is interrupted by the fifth call he has received from Natasha. He rolls his eyes before immediately declining her call. Nat probably finally talked to you about what happened and he figured she was calling to rip him a new one. He definitely wasn’t in the mood for that right now.

His smile grows as he scrolls through his phone, especially at the photo of a golden retriever you saw on campus that “looked like him.” A playful scoff leaves him at that as he imagines the way you would’ve jumped up and down on the tips of your toes, clutching onto his arm, as you justified how he was a golden retriever in human form. This was the closest he felt to you in days and he wished for it to never end.

Jake continued on, savoring every good night and “I love you” text, every apology, and every good luck you wished him on his exams. Though one series of texts was enough to have the fullness in Jake’s heart flushed empty. He reads them over and over again, praying that he read them wrong.

I failed my exams, Jake. I don’t know what to do.

His heart skips a beat.

I can’t go home this summer. I won’t. I can’t face my parents, they’ll hate me forever.

But the worst of them all, the one he begs was a prank being played on him by the universe read: I’m taking your silence as a sign that I’ve fucked us up beyond repair. I love you, Jake Seresin, even if you no longer love me.

He’s going to be sick. Sure he was mad, but he never wanted you to ever think that he didn’t love you anymore. That was just a statement that could never be true. Jake was done wallowing. He was done making you both suffer because he wasn’t man enough to confront you. Swallowing his fears and his pride, he begins formulating a text to ask you to meet him at The Hard Deck–somewhere familiar, though not too intimate just yet.

He’s about to press send when a phone call from Javy interrupts his screen. Jake instantly presses decline, however, he barely has another second before Javy’s name pops up again.

With an agitated sigh, Jake finally answers the phone, swearing up and down that whatever he was calling for better be something good. “The hell you want, Javy?”

“Jake–” he starts.

“Look, I’ve been getting calls from Nat all day and I’m assuming that’s why you’re calling me right now,” Jake vents. “But I really, really don’t have time for a lecture from either of you right now, man.”

“Jake.” Javy’s voice shifts into something more somber, more serious. “Ace’s been in an accident.”

It’s as if his feet have processed the information long before his brain did. Jake blacks out, barely recognizing the actions in which he’s pulling on his shoes and rushing out of his room and into the common living area.

The air is knocked out of his lungs, forcing him to grasp for leverage on the edge of the table. Jake can hear Bradley asking what’s wrong but all he can focus on is Javy’s breathing, the sound of people rushing around in the background. The phone slips from his hand and he feels like his entire rib cage is caving in on itself, crushing his heart. Black spots swim on his vision and there’s a hand on his chest telling him to breathe.

“Come on, Seresin,” Bradley’s voice comes through. “Breathe.”

A heavy exhale escapes him as he desperately tries to catch his breath. He’s muttering an incoherent string of words, stumbling his way through the room and trying to get to the front door.

Bradley is right on his tail, yanking on his own pair of shoes and grabbing the phone that Jake haphazardly dropped on the floor in the middle of his attack. “You gotta tell me what’s going on, man, you’re scaring me.”

Jake abruptly stops at the front door, turning to look at Bradley over his shoulder with something worse than heartbreak in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything more other than, “Ace. It’s Ace.”

That’s all Bradley needs to hear before he’s grabbing the car keys from Jake’s hands and dialing Javy’s number back into Jake’s phone.

Jake could hardly remember when he got to the hospital, let alone how he was able to navigate himself to get to the ER without help when the only thing on his mind was you. He couldn’t even recall what Javy had said about the extent of your injuries, just that you were still unconscious from the car accident.

Upon reaching the ER Jake saw Nat sitting in the waiting room with her head in her hands while Javy sat beside her and gently rubbed a comforting hand up and down her back.

Bradley and Jake’s heavy footsteps alert the couple. Nat’s head shoots up, her red rimmed and teary eyes locking on Jake’s. She’s storming over in seconds, pushing at his chest angrily.

“Why the hell didn’t you pick up your phone?”

“Nat–” he starts, only to be silenced with another harsh shove. He takes the brunt of the hit, knowing he deserved every single one and worse. “I’m sorry.” Jake winces at how pathetic he sounds.

Natasha shakes her head with disappointment clouding her features. “Sorry isn’t gonna fix this.”

Javy joins the group, nodding at Bradley as he gestures for him to sit down. He places a hand on Jake’s shoulder asking him to do the same. He only brushes Javy’s hand off, taking a step closer to Nat.

“Is she…is she okay?” He braces himself for the worst. Jake’s heart beats so fast against his ribcage that he swears he could feel the muscle begin to ache.

Natasha inhales shakily before collapsing into the nearest seat. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” The fear in his veins begins to mix with annoyance and fury. The rational side of him knew he shouldn’t be mad at Nat, but the only thing occupying his thoughts was the idea of you not being okay. Having to hear that you were in the hospital was already bad enough. He doesn’t think he could take anything more.

“I mean, I don’t know!” Nat’s voice rises with that same frustration and fear. “All the lady on the phone said was that she was in a car accident with four other people from our school. From what I understand, the others made it out okay, but the car that t-boned them…” Her voice wavers, recalling the words she heard earlier that evening and imagining the worst. “The other car hit Ace’s side head on. She took most of the impact. The other four made it out okay with barely any scratches.”

Jake’s hands are shaking as he braces them on his knees, desperate to catch his breath. He didn’t realize his knees had hit the floor until he felt the sting from the solid ground. But he didn’t have it in him to care about anything other than you right now. Jake desperately tries to piece everything together from your texts from the night before but nothing was making sense. Everything he was trying to understand came out between shallow breaths. “Where did she go? Why was she out so late? Who was she with? Why weren’t any of you with her?”

“Jake,” Bradley interferes, squeezing his shoulder as a gentle reminder to breathe.

Jake catches the way Javy clenches his jaw from the corner of his eye which has him demanding answers. “Javy.” There was something his friends weren’t telling him, making the searing hot anger in his blood begin to boil.

Nat saves her boyfriend by giving up the information for him. “Before you get upset, you need to understand that she didn’t tell any of us where she was going. None of us had really seen her lately and just assumed she was stressed out from finals. We didn’t think things were this bad.”

“What aren’t you guys telling me?”

“Jake,” Javy starts cautiously. He kneels down beside his friend, speaking nice and slow, almost like he was conversing with a child. “If we tell you, you have to promise to stay calm.”

He scoffs in disbelief, rolling his eyes at his best friend. “How do you think I’ll be able to stay calm? I just found out my girlfriend has been in an accident and no one wants to tell me what the hell is going on!”

“Javy, just tell him. He deserves to know,” Bradley sighs.

“Damn right, I deserve to know. I’m her boyfriend!” Jake’s seething as he gets up and starts pacing back and forth. People are beginning to stare but he doesn’t give a damn.

It’s Nat’s turn to grow agitated. “Really? Because last I heard the two of you were on a break.”

“Wait, what?” Javy looks at his best friend in bewilderment.

Nat shoots him a look that says, I’ll explain it all later.

“Doesn’t matter if we were on a break or not. She’s still my girl and I need to know what happened.”

The conviction in his tone and the strength on his face are enough to make Javy and Nat cave. Hiding this from him would only make things worse than they already were.

Nat doesn’t dare to meet Jake’s eye as she says, “She was with some Alpha Sigs and their girlfriends. Everyone in the car was intoxicated. Even the guy at the wheel. They were coming from the Alpha Sig house. I don’t know what the hell they were doing in a car like that but I know the Sigs are in interrogation with the police right now.”

Bradley clenches his fist. “Those bastards.”

“Ace was the only one whose condition was critical.” The word critical falls short on her tongue, being whispered into the tense atmosphere.

Jake’s silence is unnerving. They were expecting an outburst of some sort. Some screaming, maybe even some physical aggression yet not of it came. The sound that fell from Jake’s lips was worse than anything they could’ve imagined.

It was as if everyone in the room heard his heartbreak as he was unable to control the tears that fell from his eyes. The feeling of overwhelming guilt rushed over him at the realization that he should have been there. That this was all his fault. You would have never humored the idea of an Alpha Sig party in the first place if the two of you had just talked everything out. But you weren’t thinking straight, and neither was he, leading the both of you towards the path of least resistance. Instead, Jake had to be stubborn and sensitive. He couldn’t just man up and admit that you were more important than his ego and pride.

Nothing matters to him anymore upon his epiphany other than needing to see you. You were the only one that could help him.

“I need to see her,” he says through nasally breaths.

During Jake’s spiral, Nat had let tears of her own fall. “They’re not letting any of us see her right now. Just family.” The last part tastes like acid on her tongue.

“We’re her family. They need to let me see her,” he begs. Jake remembers you telling him that he and your friends were truly the only family you have ever known.

“Biological, Jake. We can’t. Not until her parents get here.” She doesn’t even try to hide the scowl on her face.

“Well, where the hell are they?” Jake questions.

“Bora Bora? Or was it Barbados? I have no fucking clue. The nurse said it sounded like they were more upset about their vacation being cut short than their own daughter being in the hospital.”

Jake hates that he wasn’t too surprised to hear that. How ironic that the real people you considered family were here and yet they wouldn’t even let them see you.

Jake swallows, trying his best to ignore the stickiness of his throat. “Then I guess I’m staying here until then.”

Javy, Natasha, and Bradley share a look of uncertainty at his words. Certainly, it wasn’t healthy for him to be there all day and all night waiting for your parents to get there. It was Jake’s determined look and sureness that also let them know that there was no talking him out of this. The three make a silent, unspoken pact to watch over the boy until then.

Jake wasn’t giving up. Not now, not ever. Leaving you was the biggest mistake he has ever made. He was never going to let that happen again.

Seventy-two hours later and Jake was still left in the dark about your condition. He desperately wanted to sneak into your room and see you. He was close to lying to the nurses and saying he was your cousin if that was what he needed to do. But the rest of his friends convinced him to be patient. Though it hurt, the pain lessened with them around.

Like clockwork, the group would come to the hospital to wait for any news and to take care of Jake. The mornings would consist of Javy and Natasha bringing Jake a new change of clothes and breakfast. His afternoons were spent with Bradley dragging him back home to take a quick shower while Bob stayed at the hospital until they returned. The first day was like pulling teeth with Jake. The scene would have been quite amusing, if not for the seriousness of their situation. Bradley looked like he was dragging a child through the hospital with how stubborn Jake was being. A quick phone call to Javy had him fixing his attitude.

“You don’t want the first impression Ace gets of you after so long to be that you stink, do you?” he had said.

So he reluctantly obliged, returning back to the hospital freshly bathed under 45 minutes flat.

Jake’s evenings were spent with Mickey and Reuben force feeding him dinner and trying to distract him with mediocre board games.

The next day, the cycle would repeat. Then again on the next. Their distractions were welcomed and he appreciated how they have been there for the both of you through everything. When night fell and the waiting room emptied, Jake stayed right where he was.

He would bury himself into the neck of his sweatshirt and try to get as much sleep as he could. Sleep didn’t come easy to Jake. All of the “what if’s” and the fear of missing the moment you’d wake clouded his thoughts to the point where sleep just seemed absolutely impossible.

The only ones left in the waiting room were the few straggling family members waiting for their loved ones and the nurses who passed by every now and then. The dim lighting and eerie silence, bar the sound of heart monitors and the occasional code call, were more than enough to have the voices in Jake’s head amplify in volume.

It was his own voice, berating him for not checking up on him sooner. For being hard headed and too full of pride to approach you first. It was Javy’s, telling him that you got into an accident. It was your last I love you. No, not last. He won’t entertain that idea.

No matter how much he willed himself not to, he couldn’t help but think to the last time the both of you spoke. Jake hated himself for not saying those three words back to you. He never thought that one choice would lead to the possibility of never hearing your voice again, touching your soft skin, or seeing your bright eyes full of life. Of never loving you again. What hurt him the most though, was the possibility that your last thought of him may be that he didn’t love you anymore. That was far from the truth.

He loved you more than he thought he was capable of loving someone. Jake has had his fair share of girlfriends and flings, but not one of them made him feel the way you did with something as simple as a look in his direction. That’s all it took with you. One look and Jake knew you were it for him. Nothing else mattered.

Jake hated himself for making you doubt that. Jake hated himself for leaving that night and most of all he hated himself for not saying it back. Now, all he wanted to do was shower you in love and reassure you that despite the sting of your words, he never stopped loving you. He can’t imagine what he would’ve done if he was in your shoes. Right now, he wished he was. If he could be in your place and take your pain, he would.

But he can’t and if something worse were to happen to you, Jake would be the one to live with that pain and burden. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if it came to that.

It’s funny to think that three years ago, Jake would have rolled his eyes and scoffed at the image of himself being hopelessly in love. Now you were his everything–the thing he couldn’t imagine his life without.

It was a miracle that he was able to fall asleep that night with no nightmares. The exhaustion must have finally caught up to him because his sleep was so deep that he woke up to Javy frantically shaking his shoulders to get him to wake.

His eyes snapped open as he came to. His senses readjusted to the environment around him before remembering where he was and why he was there.

Javy sounded like he was underwater as Jake shook himself awake. His vision finally clears and he sees the rest of his friends already there in the room. A quick glance outside was enough to tell him he slept through breakfast and probably lunchtime too.

Jake, still feeling groggy, was completely disregarding everything his best friend was saying. He assumed he was being given the same spiel he’s heard for the past three days about needing to eat and take care of himself.

Then Javy says something that has Jake snapping wide awake.

He barely gives him another chance to repeat himself before Jake is scrambling to his feet with bleary eyes and disheveled hair. He had no other cares in the world right now other than to confirm that what Javy had said is true.

The sweet nurse who Jake had familiarized himself with during his stay gently caught him by the wrist and tugged him towards the hall.

“Her parents got here an hour ago, but since she woke she’s only been asking for you,” Nurse Donna informed him.

A small flutter works its way around Jake’s rib cage and down to his stomach upon hearing her words. He can no longer contain the nerves that flood through his system as he continues to clumsily follow Donna, tripping over his own feet in the process.

When Donna finally lets go of his wrist, he stops outside the door marked with your last name for just a moment. Hesitation and fear cloud his mind. Maybe Donna was mistaken. What if you weren’t actually asking for him? What if she had misheard? What if–

“It’s okay, honey. Go see your girl.” Donna urges him with an encouraging smile.

His girl. God, he missed hearing that. He gives her a small nod of gratitude and exhales softly. Jake’s shaky hand reaches for the silver knob. Giving it a forceful push, he makes his way through the door frame. His feet skid to stop at the threshold and his breath hitches in his throat as he’s met with the sight of those beautiful eyes he’s been praying to see for days on end.

Two Years Ago

Jake didn’t understand why you were so cold towards him. You were even able to warm up to his frat brothers Javy and Reuben. He was dying for it to be his turn. It got to the point where Jake would just breathe while standing beside you and you’d let out a loud groan and move beside Bradley.

Jake hated to admit that he was jealous of Bradley’s ability to get along with you so easily. After your little moment in the library, he thought things between the two of you would be easier, lighter. Instead, it became the absolute opposite and Jake was close to doing something stupid just so you would pay attention to him again. He doesn’t know why, but ever since that day in the library, he found himself desperate for your attention. He was filled with the satisfaction he used to get when flirting with sorority girls. He hasn’t been able to feel that since you.

He doesn’t know what he did to make you dislike him so much. If only he knew, then maybe he could do something to rectify your predetermined notions of him.

Even now as he attempted to butter up an Alpha Phi girl, his green eyes were constantly drawn back to your figure on the other side of the aisle. The high pitched voice of the girl in front of him turned into white noise as Jake zeroed in on you. Suddenly, getting this girl to come to the party tonight was the last thing on his mind.

You hadn’t noticed him yet. If you had, you probably would’ve made a B-line toward the exit already. You were standing on your tiptoes with your tongue slightly poking out from the corner of your mouth. Brows furrowed in concentration, you desperately tried to grab a book on the top shelf. After a lousy first attempt, you try a second time. This time, you rock back on your heels for momentum before launching yourself upwards. Your second try is just as unsuccessful as your first.

Jake shakes his head with amusement as he watches you try for a third time. Your third attempt was just as successful as the last two, leaving you standing empty handed.

“Hey, Becky? Why don’t we finish this conversation another time, yeah?” He gently pats the girl on the arm, all while keeping his gaze trained on you. Jake barely waits for the girl’s response, missing her disgruntled correction of, My name’s Brittany! that falls from her lips.

You’re staring heatedly at the book on the top shelf. He strides over to you, patiently waiting for you to notice him. He stands beside you, also looking up intently at the book, with his arms crossed over his chest. His lips quirk up at the corners as he notes the way your body tenses upon sensing his presence.

All you do is roll back your shoulders as if preparing for one last jump. Jake stops you before you can even make your attempt.

“Sit tight, Ace, your savior’s here.” His left hand hovers over the small of your back while he extends his right arm to reach the book you were looking for. An over dramatic sigh leaves his lips as he brings his arm down and hands the book out to you. His green eyes twinkle with delight as you cross your arms in annoyance.

You turn to meet his gaze, your own stare burning into his.

Jake’s stomach does the strangest thing upon catching your eye. He suddenly finds himself mesmerized by their beautiful color. The intensity of your stare makes him feel like you can see right through him, all the way into the depths of the most hidden parts of his soul. He could get lost in them if you let him.

Breaking eye contact at the intensity of his gaze, you scoff, snatching the book from his hands. Swiftly turning on your heels, you make your way toward the end of the aisle. You stop right at the end and pause before turning over your shoulder to see Jake still eyeing you in bewilderment. “Careful on your way out, Seresin. Your head’s getting so big I’m afraid it might be a bit of a tight squeeze.”

For once, his brain seems to have shut off and he’s unable to think up a cocky or witty remark. He watches you go with intrigue and admiration. His stomach does another somersault as he recalls the exact shade of your eyes and the sway of your hips.

You are going to be the death of him.

“Jake?”

Just like that, he can finally breathe again. Tears gather in his eyes faster than his feet can bring him to the edge of the bed. Jake’s sweeping your hand that’s not hooked up to the IV in his and he lets out a breath of relief at the feeling of your skin on his. A feeling that he was afraid he’d never get to have again.

“Jake,” you sigh, the moment his hand is in yours. You breathe his name like it was your first full breath of fresh air. It falls from your lips like a prayer. Soft, sweet, and full of conviction.

He gives himself a moment to scan your body. Jake’s heart fractures even more than he thought was possible given everything he’s been through this past week. Upon seeing the state you were in, anguish crashes down onto his body. His shoulders feel heavy and his knees are weak at the sight of your pretty face all battered and bruised from various hits you took. There’s a nasty gash on your forehead that was barely holding itself together with the bandage that was placed there. Your right arm was in a cast and your left knee was propped up and wrapped up in a bandage of its own. He hopes that this was the worst of your injuries, but he knows that the extent of them goes deeper than what he can see with his naked eye. Your skin was adorned in a variety of scrapes and scratches, all of which Jake desperately wished he could kiss away.

The shallow movements of your chest and the pained whimper that leaves your lips have him carefully running his other hand over the side of your head, softly soothing you. He bends down to gently rest his forehead against yours and the second his skin makes contact with yours, he’s unable to stop the tears that begin to fall. Jake’s eyes squeeze shut and the heaviness that has been pushing on his chest since the moment he walked away from you finally subsides. His grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly as if to tell himself you’re here, you’re alive, you’re okay. The same words leave him in a hushed whisper that he shares between the two of you. Though they were more of a reassurance for himself.

A shaky exhale escapes you at his words and the way you’re gasping for air signifies that you’ve started crying as well. Part of it was from the tight pain in your chest and the other from the utter disbelief that this was real–that Jake was really here.

The first thing you thought of the second you woke was Jake. You were positive that he wasn’t going to be there, but you desperately begged for him anyway. The shock on your parents' faces that clouded your vision quickly turned to disgust as you refused to listen to their words. Your mother had tried to reach out to you, but you thrashed in her touch and frantically shook your head as you cried out for Jake.

You were in near hysterics and your parents were staring at you in shock and horror but you didn’t care. You didn’t care that they were there when all you wanted was Jake.

Your mother begged Nurse Donna to sedate you. The sour look on Donna’s face was missed by your mother as she left the room. She thought that Donna had gone to grab the sedative. However, when she returned without a syringe and with a boy, your mother almost fainted.

You, on the other hand, thought you were dreaming when you saw him walk through that door. You just couldn’t believe that even after everything, Jake was there. Then he touched you and you broke down. His scent invaded you. His touch that you’ve craved like a drug for days on end was finally yours again. The reality that he was there was more than enough to have you breaking down again.

“I’m sorry,” you slur, still slightly drowsy from the medications. “I’m sorry,” you mutter over and over again as he places his forehead on yours.

You feel him pull you closer and shush you gently as tears of his own run down his face. You did this. You made him cry. If your limbs weren’t so heavy and numb you would’ve brushed away all the tears that ran down his perfect face until his eyes were finally dry.

Jake’s elation shatters at your words. You had absolutely nothing to be sorry for right now. If anything, he should be the one on his knees begging for your forgiveness. He opens his mouth to speak before getting cut off by someone in the corner of the room clearing their throat.

Jake’s attention was so focused on you that he hadn’t noticed your parents standing there this entire time. Hot, white fury fuels him at the sight of them looking more bothered than worried for their daughter.

“You didn’t tell us you had a boyfriend,” your mother practically sneers at him.

Jake wills himself to pull it together, for your sake.

“Mom–” you start.

“How does that make you feel, son? Knowing your girlfriend didn’t tell her own parents about you?” This time, it’s your father who speaks up, eyeing Jake up and down. “Insignificant, I would say.”

“Dad! Stop it!”

The stress in your voice is evident and the spike of your heart monitor grabs Jake’s attention.

You barely had enough strength to defend Jake against their venomous words. He looks at you with wide eyes, asking for your permission to speak to them. Had this been under different circumstances, Jake wouldn’t need to think twice about biting his tongue. He probably would have snapped back at them too if he didn’t notice the unnecessary stress this entire situation was putting on your shoulders.

You shake your head at him before glancing toward your parents. “Please. Please leave.” You didn’t want them here right now. You didn’t need anyone but Jake right now.

Offended, your mother scoffs. “You’re choosing a boy over your own parents?”

This time, Jake decides to jump to your defense. “I believe she asked you to leave.” He looks over his shoulder, narrowing his gaze at your parents who stand unbothered across the room.

“Why should we listen to you?” Your mother fights back.

You start feeling lightheaded from the entire situation and you lay your head back, sliding out of Jake’s hold slightly. “Please,” you ask with the little strength you have.

Noticing the warmth of your skin leaving him, Jake gently follows the movement of your head and cradles it while helping you lower your head to the pillow. His full attention is back on you as he scans you for any more distress. Jake was getting angrier by the minute. Couldn’t your parents see how much stress they were causing you? Why wouldn’t they just leave? He was close to yelling at them now but was saved by Donna entering the room.

“Your daughter asked you to leave,” she tells them sternly. “Now I suggest you listen before I call security to have you both dragged out of here.”

Your mother’s jaw drops and your father shakes his head with a scowl. Putting his hands up in surrender, your father is the first to leave.

Your mother, however, lingers for just a moment more. “I can’t believe we left the Bahamas for this.” She always had to have the last word.

Once the room is free of their presence you heavily exhale, looking at Donna with a grateful smile.

She nods with a small smile of her own. “I’ll let you kids have a moment. Oh, and don’t worry, I’ll be right outside in case your parents try to come back.”

“Thanks, Donna,” Jake sighs, his eyes never leaving yours.

She winks at the both of you before softly closing the door on her way out.

“Are you–” the both of you say at the same time.

You avert your gaze with a nervous chuckle and Jake smiles, urging you to go first.

You take a moment to observe the boy in front of you. This Jake was not the one you saw the last time. This Jake was tired and worn out. If the dullness of his green eyes and the dark circles that surrounded them weren’t a telltale sign of his exhaustion, it was the paleness of his skin and his sullen cheeks.

“Are you okay?” You ask timidly. For the first time since you started dating, you find yourself feeling incredibly anxious about him. You were the reason why he looked like this, so empty and void of life. You didn’t even deserve for him to be here right now.

Jake shakes his head with a sad smile playing on his lips. “You’re the one in a hospital gown and you’re asking if I’m okay?”

He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead and you almost cry from the contact.

“That’s my Ace, always worrying about me.” So much fondness shines in his eyes, causing you to finally break.

The tears start flowing again, scaring Jake just a little bit.

“Your Ace?” You sob. Somehow, you knew he had already forgiven you, but you still didn’t think you deserved it. “How can you even stand being here with me after everything I did? I hurt you, Jake. I hurt you and I am so, so sorry.”

“Hey,” he whispers, softly stroking your hair. “It’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay!” You hiccup and hiss at the sting it causes in your rib cage.

“Ace, breathe for me sweetheart, come on.” He gently coaxes you with teary eyes of his own. He needs to hold it together for your sake. He needs to be strong for both of you.

“It’s not okay,” you sniffle.

“Shh…” Jake sees how much of a toll this entire thing has taken on you.

Your eyelids are drooping heavily, but you will to keep them open. You’re afraid that once you close them, you’ll wake up to find that this was all just a dream. That Jake was never really here to begin with and that you were all alone.

Jake pulls the empty chair that was beneath your bed closer to him and takes a seat. He encapsulates your hand between both of his and brings them to his lips. “It’s okay, Ace. Sleep,” he guides.

“No.” You tiredly fight against the exhaustion that is threatening to take over. “No.”

“Sleep,” Jake requests again. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“You promise?” You whimper.

“I promise.” He gives your hand another kiss for safe measure, already seeing that your eyes have already begun to close. With his lips still pressed against your skin, he swears, “I’ll be here, Ace. I promise I’m never leaving you again. I love you. So fucking much.”

Jake doesn’t miss the faint smile that ghosts your lips as sleep finally takes control of your body.

Two Years Ago

He finds you lying on the dewy lawn of the Delta Chi house splayed out like a starfish. “What in the…” he mutters to himself as he makes his way towards you.

Jake stands over you, coming into your vision upside down causing you to giggle.

“Ace?”

“Hangman!” You exclaim with a dopey smile on your lips.

He rolls his eyes at the name and crouches down above you. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

You sigh dreamily. “Stargazing.”

Jake catches the scent of cheap beer and jungle juice on your lips, letting him know you were currently far from sober. That makes him worry just a little bit. Last he heard you didn’t drink. You despised it actually.

“How much have you had to drink?” He asks for safe measures.

Another giggle erupts from your lips as you hold up all ten of your fingers and even your feet, wiggling your toes in your sandals. “This many.”

That’s all Jake needs to confirm that you are long gone. “Where’s the rest of your friends?” He glances around looking for any sign of your roommates. All he sees are drunk couples making out on the front porch and the occasional flash of disco lights that escapes through the front windows and open door.

“Dunno,” is all you say with a lazy shrug.

Jake sighs, finding himself caught in a dilemma. He had a smoking hot blonde waiting for him to come back inside and bring her upstairs. So why did he feel so guilty about the thought of leaving you out here to fend for yourself? The two of you were hardly even friends, acquaintances at most. He only saw you after your group project because his friends mingled with your circle of friends after miraculously getting along upon meeting each other.

Yet as he looked down at you staring awe struck up at the sky, he knew he couldn’t just leave you out here alone. Pushing himself off his knees, he groans. “Mind if I join you?”

You shrug. “Mi casa es tu casa. Or no, wait. Tu casa es mi casa. Get it? Cause this is your house?” You laugh at your own joke.

Your laughter is infectious, plaguing Jake with a few chuckles of his own. He lays on the damp ground beside you, resting his arms behind his head. “Not really my house, darling. It’s the fraternity’s.”

“Same thing,” you wave him off.

The two of you lay there in comfortable silence, watching the night sky. Jake had to admit, this was the most fun he has probably had all night even if you were doing nothing but looking at the sky.

Out here with you, Jake felt like he could let his guard down. His cocky, playboy, frat boy persona disappeared. When around everyone else, he felt like he was expected to act a certain way but being out here with you, he knew you expected nothing of the sort.

That was one of the first things that caught him completely off guard when he met you. All it took was one look at him and you were picking him apart, dissecting all of the fronts he put up around others. That’s why you bothered him so much. He barely knew anything about you and somehow, it was like you knew everything about him. You saw through his charms and arrogance, leaving no room for any funny business.

Jake’s shoulders fall from his ears and he lets himself relax.

Hearing you shift beside him, he wants to ask you what was on your mind. His curiosity never failed to make itself known when you were around. Again, he knew that you didn’t drink, so why were you absolutely wasted right now?

The question is on the tip of his tongue, begging to be asked, but he exhales gratefully when you speak up first.

“My parents are assholes who care about nothing but my grades and their image.”

He’s not sure if he was meant to hear what you just said or if you realize it’s him that you’re talking to. So he stays quiet and patiently waits for you to continue.

“It’s parents’ weekend next week and they don’t even bother to answer any of my calls or texts about it. And when I do hear back from them it’s a halfhearted apology that they can’t make because they’re off on the other side of the world.” A dry laugh escapes you. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited them. I knew they weren’t going to show up, whether they were actually here or not. I mean… is it too much to ask for them to just show up and be proud of me?”

Jake sits up with a frown on his lips upon hearing your voice crack. He hesitates, unsure of what to say. He was never good at the whole comfort thing, especially when it came to crying girls. He used to try to comfort his sisters when they would cry, but he always just seemed to make things worse. He didn’t want to make you feel worse than you already did. “I’m sure they’re proud of you, Ace. They’d be idiots not to be.”

You scoff, seemingly sobering up just enough to push yourself to sit up beside him. “I guess they’re idiots then.”

Jake’s mouth runs faster than his brain can manage to keep up.“Hey, at least you have parents. I mean...look at Bradley.”

That pulls a snort and a teary laugh from you. “Oh my god! Jesus, Seresin…” You’re laughing. You feel bad that you are, but the delivery of Jake’s words was so nonchalant that you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “You’re insane.”

He joins in your laughter, glad that he was able to pull your attention from your inner turmoil even if it was just for a minute. “What? Am I wrong?”

“You’re not, but come on. That was so uncalled for,” you shake your head in amusement.

Jake sends you a toothy grin, captivated by the way your smile grows.

“Jake!” The sound of another feminine voice catches both of your attention. The blonde he left inside earlier was running down the porch steps and in their direction. “There you are,” the girl exclaims, throwing her arms around him as she joins him on the ground. She presses an obnoxiously loud kiss to his neck with a smile. “I’ve been waiting for you, Cowboy.”

As if suddenly realizing where you were and who you were with, you tuck your chin to your sternum and avoid his gaze. He grimaces in the other girl’s hold.“Ace–”

You go to stand, still wobbling from the alcohol but you’re coherent enough to know where you were going. “Looks like duty calls, Hangman.”

The girl gives you a cheeky smile as she moves her lips from his neck to the side of his face.

He doesn’t miss the somber note of your tone. Jake watches you sway on your feet as you make your way back inside. He wants to reach out to you, beg you to stay but he holds himself back. With a sigh, he pulls the girl who’s clinging to his side up to her feet and flashes her a halfhearted grin.

Even with his newfound company, Jake couldn’t get you out of his head.

True to his word, Jake never left your side since you woke up. If the doctor’s needed to personally evaluate your condition, he would step outside but immediately come back in once the doctor gave him the okay.

Your parents haven’t made another appearance since that first day and you were relieved. Your friends have been in and out of your hospital room once you were moved to the regular hospital floor from Urgent Care.

Your body was still pretty weak due to the severity of your injuries but you felt stronger than you have in weeks. Being surrounded by your friends, your family, gave you some of that strength back. Most important of all, being with Jake had you feeling invincible.

The doctors were thrilled with your rate of recovery and predicted you would be discharged in the next couple of days.

Though Jake kept his promise to you, you still had a sliver of doubt about where the two of you stood relationship wise. You tried to bring it up a couple of times, but Jake would only respond with a shake of his before telling you not to worry about it now.

You were just a bit afraid that this was his way of letting you down easily. That this was his way of telling you that he loved you, but he just couldn’t be in a relationship with you anymore.

But then he’d do something as small as brushing your hair gently from your face as you ate or held your hand before you fell asleep at night and that little bit of worry would subside, if only for a moment.

You’re laughing at Reuben’s lame attempt to sink Nat’s battleship when Jake gives you a quick kiss on the cheek muttering a soft, “I’ll be right back,” into your ear.

You shoot him a soft smile and nod, before returning your attention to your friends’ antics.

Meanwhile, Jake makes a quick run to the coffee machine down the hall. He barely makes it five steps there when he runs into someone right outside your door.

He looks up and almost spews out an apology before realizing exactly who he ran into.

The look of distaste that falls upon his face is anything but subtle.

Your mother shares a look with your father, who sneers at the sight of him.

Being born and raised by his southern gentleman of a father and kind hearted mother, he knew he still had to show some respect towards your parents despite his dislike for them.

He gives them a nod as a form of greeting and silently prays that they let him slip past them.

“You should leave now before it gets worse,” your mother speaks up.

Jake knew he should probably ignore it. Leave your mother without the satisfaction of getting under his skin. But he couldn’t. He stops in his tracks. Glaring at them from over his shoulder, he hissed, “Excuse me?”

Your mother only shrugs, pulling her handbag tighter over her shoulder. “She’s not worth your time or the trouble. Trust us. As her parents, we would know. How does it make you feel? Knowing you must mean so little to her that she didn’t even mention your existence to her parents.”

Jake was finally tired of biting his tongue. No one, not even your own parents, talked about you like that. Not if he could help it. “With all due respect, I know she didn’t tell you about me and frankly, I don’t blame her considering the way you treat your daughter. Besides, how would either of you know anything? You’re never here so you’d never know just how worth it your daughter is. I would walk through hell for her. Something I know neither of you would ever do.

So no, you don’t know. You don't know just how thoughtful and sweet and caring she is. You don’t know just how incredibly smart she is. Most of all, you would never understand that she is worth everything.”

Jake is breathless at the end of his speech. His chest heaves as he catches his breath and harshly swallows from his passionate spiel. You were everything and the idea that anyone would think otherwise astonished him.

Your mother barely bats an eye. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t mind completely taking her off our hands then. Considering she moved so far away from us for college, you can tell my daughter to not even bother coming back home to visit us because apparently, we’re never here for her anyway.” She storms past Jake in suppressed fury, muttering to herself, “The Bahamas!”

Your father, on the other hand, pauses for a moment. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something and glances through the doorway before looking back at Jake and clearing his throat. “Just, um, just tell her the hospital bill will be taken care of once it comes in the mail.” He gives one last look at your hospital room before scurrying in the same direction your mother had gone.

A sigh of relief escapes Jake’s lips from the encounter, diminishing his prior craving for caffeine.

He makes his way back into the room to see three pairs of eyes settled on him. Jake’s a bit unnerved at all the attention he’s receiving and he’s slightly confused by the way Nat, Reuben, and you were all staring at him.

He nervously chuckles, running a hand down the back of his neck.

Reuben suddenly stands up, grabbing his battleship board. “I think we should continue this outside, right Nat?”

She nods with a smile grabbing her board as well. “Yeah, let’s. We’ll give you two a minute.” Natasha squeezes your hand as she ushers out of the room.

Jake shifts back and forth on his feet, feeling a heat of embarrassment flow through him. “You heard all of that, didn’t you?”

A look he can’t fully decipher on your face. “Yeah, I did.”

“I am so sorry if I crossed a line I just—“

“I love you.” You cut him off teary eyed.

“What?” He breathes, the wideness of his growing smile no longer contained.

You give him a smile of your own that matches the look of love and pure happiness that lights up his features. “I said I love you. I heard you, that first night you stayed over but I was too afraid to say it back. Just in case you didn’t mean it the way I did anymore. But then you…”

Jake cups your face in his hands, nodding to encourage you to take your time.

“But then I heard what you said to my parents and no one has ever stood up for me that way.”

His thumbs begin to trace gentle patterns onto the apples of your cheeks.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I love you and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise.” A tear finally escapes from the corner of your eye that gets gently pressed away by Jake’s lips.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt my love.”

You shake your head, desperately hoping he understands that none of that matters now. “You’re here now. That’s what matters. I love you, Jake Seresin.”

Finally, after days of waiting, he kisses you softly on the lips. It’s not rough or hungry, despite how long he’s been waiting for this moment. It’s soft, delicate, and full of love. It’s passionate and heartwarming. It’s the kind that you could feel all the way to the tips of your toes. Just like the first time.

“I love you, Ace. You’ll never have to doubt that again.”

Your relationship, just like your body, wasn’t one hundred percent healed. There were still many things the two of you had to talk about.

However, knowing that Jake loved you didn’t make the unspoken parts so scary. Having him, loving him, is enough.

a/n: a super duper, huge thank you to @blue-aconite for beta reading and being just the best support system through this entire journey <3 she even swayed my original plans for this so you should thank her for jake and ace getting back together sooner that anticipated lol as usual, reblogs, feedback, and comments are all greatly appreciated and the inbox is always open

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 2 months

Text

ask me to leave and i’ll stay forever ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru is stubborn; even when plagued by such a high fever, he insists there’s no need to take care of him. thankfully, you’re equally as stubborn.

word count; 10.8k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, implied non-sorcerer!reader, sickfic, reverse comfort, sickening amounts of fluff, lots of petnames, satoru gojo vs the mortifying ordeal of being loved, just a tinyyyy bit of angst if u rlly squint, literally just satoru being pampered for like 10k words straight, he’s cute when he’s sick but still manages to be a lil shit <33, he’s also a huge sap you have been warned!!

a/n; what can i say, im a proud member of the ”satoru gojo needs to be babied relentlessly” club <33 he’s just a little guy!! tagging @catchuuu my beloved for being the sweetest enjoy a healthy dose of sick sleepy satoru <33 i am tagging all toru enjoyers in spirit btw i love u all

you’ve never seen satoru like this before.

head buried into a big pillow, white locks tousled and sticking to his forehead — skin sweaty, hot to the touch, with a flushed face to match. heavy breaths fall from his parted lips, blinking in and out of consciousness, squeezing his eyes shut.

it’s nothing like the joyous, loud, cocky satoru you’re so used to. he’s weak. he’s fatigued.

he’s completely, undoubtedly sick.

”really, baby,” he slurs, raspy and dry. still attempting to raise himself up, arms straining under the weight of his shivering body. ”there’s no need f’ —”

unceremoniously, his limbs give out beneath him, and he tumbles right back down; a meek little wince escaping his throat as his face falls back into the mattress. the sound makes your heart squeeze tightly in your chest.

”ah. that’s…” he tries to speak, a disgruntled hum muffled by the sheets. ”… annoying.”

satoru sounds frustrated. you can tell he’s resisting the urge to close his eyes, a little helpless, unable to even move properly, like a fish out of water. he’s still breathing unevenly, still sweating, still burning up — you can practically feel it, from where you’re standing, crouched down by his bed.

you’ve never, ever seen satoru like this. you’ve seen him sniffling during flu season, wrecked with headaches during rainy season. you’ve seen him vulnerable; not many times, but enough that it matters.

but you’ve never seen him like this.

(and it makes you terribly anxious.)

”satoru, please just —” you croak, gnawing at your bottom lip. trying desperately to swallow the worry in your chest. ”don’t overdo it. please?”

you can hear the anxious little timbre of your own voice, and you can feel the frown tugging at your lips. but you can’t do anything to quell the insistent pitter patter of your heartbeat, the ache that accompanies it. satoru’s lying down, still trying to gather the strength to reassure you, even through the feverish haze clouding his mind.

he looks so small.

this wasn’t what you were expecting to see, today. you were expecting to meet up with satoru, and see his happy little grin, those tiny dimples and freckles that only show themselves in the light of the sun. you were expecting to feel the weight of his hand in yours, as you strolled down to the new crêpe stand he’s been wanting to check out since he first found their instagram account.

you were expecting to see him happy. healthy. a little obnoxious, a little annoying — but hopelessly sweet. all the love you could ever need, molded into a human shape. your little angel.

a sigh slips from your lips. you can’t help it; because satoru is just so stubborn, so closed off, and he can be such an idiot sometimes. you knew something was off the moment he sent you that text, asking you oh so charmingly, apologetically, if you could postpone your date for just an hour or so. you knew something was wrong, but he still wouldn’t let up until you brought out the 🥺 emojis.

and then he told you he was fine. it’s all he ever is, apparently.

my throat’s just a little scratchy, is all. wouldn’t want you to miss out on the voice you love so much, yeah?

give me an hour and i’ll be perfect for you. <3

moron.

he’s curled up in a fetal position, trying to stop himself from shivering, muttering little reassurances under his breath that you can’t make out. wearing ripped jeans and a nice jacket, like he was fully prepared to head out like this — like he genuinely thought an hour, some painkillers and a dream would be enough to chase away a fever this severe. like he was so desperate to see you he was fully willing to take that risk.

moron. moron. he should’ve called you the moment he realized he was sick. instead, you had to coax him into letting you come over, with a flurry of sad and cute emojis you know make him go weak at the knees when they’re coming from you.

and here you are. in satoru’s house, in front of his bed, trying to convince him that he is, in fact, sick.

but he just won’t listen.

”just — gimme a couple minutes, honey?” your boyfriend mumbles, barely coherent, stringing words together haphazardly. awfully dizzy. ”i just need the painkillers to kick in, i promise i —”

”satoru.”

there’s a sad tint to your voice, now. unmistakable. one that satoru notices, even through the feverish, muddy filter over his reality.

and it makes him quiet down.

(he doesn’t want to disappoint you.)

as gently as you can, you settle down on the bed, eyes painfully softened. overflowing with care. towering over him, leaning close — to press your lips against his scorching forehead, brushing away his sweaty bangs with a palpable tenderness. your voice soothing, coming out almost as a low coo. you’re frustrated, and exasperated.

but most of all, you’re worried.

”go back to sleep,” you hum, a gentle command. your hand finds his, cold skin meeting warm, tracing circles over his palm. ”i’ll take care of you.”

”there’s no need,” he mutters, instantaneous. so used to denying kindness.

but he curls an arm around your waist, anyway, tugging you closer; a little needy. like you’re much too far away for his liking. finally beginning to settle down, coaxed into resting by the soft touches your grace him with. it’s only a matter of time.

so you keep your lips against his forehead, cradling his slender fingers in yours, murmuring little whispered reassurances. and before you know it, his lashes have fluttered shut, like a white dove landing on the ground. he still looks so troubled, so meek. you can’t resist the urge to soothe him, hand cupping his face, thumb smoothing over the apple of his cheek. you watch him lean into it, eyes dripping with care. your poor baby.

for a couple precious moments, you allow yourself to indulge in the sight. even like this, he looks a bit like an angel, a painting come to life. like one wrong brushstroke could smudge him.

so you’re delicate, as you trace little hearts into his skin, delicate as you maneuver his body enough to peel the layers of clothing off him — leaving him in only an oversized tee and a pair of briefs. satoru can only whine, softly, so quiet you barely even hear him. so disoriented, on the brink of falling into a deep slumber. some part of him is trying to resist, you’re sure, still agonizing over the date he’s missing out on. as if anything matters more than his health.

but it doesn’t work. he can only let out a tiny groan, hopelessly pliant as you tuck him in, pulling a big blanket over his shoulders. you card through his hair, another soft kiss planted on his sweaty forehead — and your hand stays between his locks until you’re sure he’s asleep. his breathing mellows out, his grip around your waist loosens, seeking comfort from you even in his dreams.

you’d crawl under the blankets with him, but you have work to do.

stealing one final glance at your fever-ridden lover, your heartbeat ricochets. he still looks so meek, all warm and sweaty, shirt sticking to his skin. a frown tugs at your bottom lip.

satoru is always so stubborn, refusing to lean on others for support. you wish he had called you immediately, nagged at you to come baby him. sure, you might’ve sighed in faux exasperation, and teased him a little, but it still would’ve made you feel happy. useful. and you would’ve done it in a heartbeat. maybe, if you just prove that you can take care of him properly, he’ll do it next time.

so you stand up, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead one last time, and make your way towards the kitchen.

satoru’s house is spacious. a little too spacious, enough for at least three people to live in comfortably; nice furniture, an expensive sofa in the living room, a large tv you’re almost certain he only keeps around for white noise. such are the ways of the rich, you suppose. he doesn’t invite you over very often, so you’ve never had the chance to get very affiliated with the space. it’s always the other way around — him, waiting for you on the couch when you get home, chirping out an unconvincing don’t even worry about it, baby! when you ask how he got in without a key. or him, showing up at your doorstep in the middle of the night, filling the sleepy silence with jokes to distract you from the bags under his eyes.

(he likes it when you cling to him in your sleep — he sleeps a lot better that way. that’s what he told you, at least, when you brought him coffee in bed that one time. a little glimmer of honesty.)

he stays over so often he might as well just move in, but you aren’t really sure how to even approach that subject. some part of you fears it’d be too much, too intimate, that he’d pack his bags and run away. bringing all his secrets with him, that soft laughter you’ve grown so fond of. so you figure it’s better to let him make a home out of yours, let him curl up on your couch and snack on the candy you hid in your kitchen cabinets. that’s safe for him.

and now that you’ve seen his home up close — if you can even call it that — you think you’re starting to understand his preference. because it’s spacious, yes, but also empty. save for expensive furniture and fake houseplants, there isn’t anything to indicate that the apartment belongs to him, that he feels comfortable there. like he hasn’t even bothered to make it his. like it’s about to be sold, and you’re just one of the potential buyers, checking the place out. admiring the patterns of the floorboards and the walls.

it doesn’t feel like satoru at all.

his own bedroom was another story, a much more pleasant one. a lot more satoru. filled with little trinkets, key charms and souvenirs and silly figurines. a framed photo of three students by the windowsill, an old uniform hanging by his closet, socks strewn about here and there. a dying houseplant. comic books and movie posters and a ps5 you don’t think he’s touched since he finished spiderman 2. a king sized bed, that makes him look like a spoiled little princess when he’s lying in it, next to a cat plushie you won for him at a fair. knowing he actually sleeps with it kind of makes you want to cry.

there’s this particular scent, too, lingering in the air. mellow, nostalgic, the kind that soothes you with just a whiff; a blend between sunlight, expensive cologne, and something sweet. it clings to all his favorite clothes, to his skin. you’d live in it if you could.

something constricts, inside your chest — like thorny vines strangling your beating heart, pressing down ever so slightly. just thinking about it, about him, about his distressed expression as his head hit the pillow. making your way over to his kitchen, getting yourself affiliated with the space, preparing to make a good soup for his fever. the fridge is almost empty, save for sweets and that one drink you like. the takeout boxes on his kitchen table tells you all you need to know.

it only makes you worry more.

luckily, you were clever enough to buy your own ingredients on the way here. chop, chop, into tiny little pieces. chicken soup should help, shouldn’t it? it’s all you can focus on, all you can hope for. anything is fine; you just want to help him, be of use somehow. he does so much for you.

you just want to give some of it back.

satoru’s loneliness is a subtle thing. flexible, alert, slipping away at the slightest sign of knowing eyes. for someone who’s so often surrounded by people, cracking jokes and laughing louder than anyone else, he doesn’t seem to make any noise when he’s alone. he curls into himself, just a bit, and a kind of reminiscence smooths over the contours of his face.

that’s when you see him. that lonely, lonely guy. resigned to his self-imposed isolation, paradoxically yearning for something more. watching as the cherry trees bloom, like they’ll give him the answers he seeks once they bear fruit.

but the moment you come into view, he smiles. knowing you won’t push it — that you’ll let him take his time. that you’ll let him flee, just a little.

still, you can’t help but wish he’d lean on you a little more. you wish you could chase his loneliness away with a pitchfork, but it’s a fickle creature. you somehow doubt he wants to part with it.

all you can do is love him. love him, love him, and love him some more; until he’s had his fill.

(you’re not sure he ever will. it’s a good thing, a very good thing, because you’re almost certain you’ll never run out.)

and that’s why you’re here. in his ghost of a home, his kitchen, pouring water into a large pot. tender, sprinkling love over every single action, every slice and dice, every piece of chicken and veggies thrown into the boiling water. you try and you try, hoping it’ll reach him.

but before you can make another attempt, something reaches you, instead.

two long arms curl around your waist, suddenly, something warm and soft pressing itself against your back. and you almost flinch, completely caught up in the stirring of the soup, unsure of how much time has passed since you began. it jolts you out of your thoughts.

you know who it is, though. never mind the fact that he’s the only other person in the apartment; you know it’s him by his touch alone, the weight of his arms, that particular scent that surrounds him. like memories of summer.

it’s awfully sweet, the way he clings to you, the soft little blissful sigh that slips from his lips. but before you can feel moved at the domesticity of the gesture, worry clouds your senses. he doesn’t even get the chance to speak.

”satoru —” you place a palm on his forearm, craning your head to look back at him. his forehead rests against your shoulder, and his eyes are closed. he’s still so warm, too warm. ”what are you doing here? you should be resting.”

your boyfriend mumbles something, under his breath, something that your ears can’t quite digest. he shifts, a little, as if getting ready to put on some sort of act — to smile and joke, or laugh and tease you. you can imagine what he’d say if he wasn’t in such a feverish state; he’d hug you from behind, a low purr of what’cha up to? whispered right into your ear. then you’d jolt, and he’d giggle sheepishly, satisfied with the reaction.

but now, all he can do is cough. still leaning against you, gripping onto your midriff a little more desperately than usual. you step away from the stove, turning around, making sure your hands never leave his. looking up at him with concern in your eyes, noticing his little frown.

”c’mon, you need to lie down.” you reach for his cheek, cupping it in your palm, and he practically melts into it. enjoying the chilly sensation to his fever-ridden skin. “the soup’ll be finished soon, okay?”

”… you made,” he tries, syllables falling from his lips haphazardly. ”soup —” a series of coughs. they cut him off, and the worry in your chest only deepens.

“don’t push yourself, okay? you’re really sick, dummy.” satoru pouts, but doesn’t say anything, only clinging to you tighter when you usher him away. “let’s go back to your room, alright?”

but he won’t budge. he’s so sleepy, so sick and delirious, putting all his body weight on you. you try your best not to stumble beneath it.

”honey,” you plead, holding him securely in your embrace. his arms around your waist, your hands on his shoulders. ”work with me, please? just gotta get you back to bed —”

”’s…” he whispers, suddenly, a raspy little thing. scratchy, meek, awfully earnest; you wonder if he’s too sick not to be. ”… too lonely without you.”

a moment passes. your breath hitches pitifully, at the base of your throat.

satoru is hugging you so tightly, as if you could disappear at any moment, slip away if he doesn’t keep you close. he’s holding you as if pleading for comfort, for a touch of safety. as if he needs you. if his meek little admission hadn’t already melted your heart the marrow, that thought certainly would’ve done the job.

taking a moment to collect yourself, you inhale, face surely aflame. satoru just nuzzles into your shoulder, too tired to say anything else, wanting to be close to you. it’s a wonder your knees don’t buckle.

gently, you let your hand trail upwards, palm smoothing down his hair. softly, like he’s a clingy, overgrown cat. ”sorry,” you start, just a little breathless. ”i’ll be with you, okay? won’t leave you alone. i promise.”

there’s an earnesty in your words that you doubt you could ever fake. satoru must hear it too, you think, because he finally begins to work with you. allowing you to stumble towards his bedroom, supporting his weight.

but once you make it to his bed, he still refuses to let go of you.

”toru, gotta go finish that soup. ’n make you some tea.” you rub his back, soothingly, as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. shaking his head and emitting a throaty groan, only squeezing you tighter when you try to guide him under the covers. how cruel of him, to act so cute when said soup is most likely boiling over by the stove. ”please, sweetie? it won’t take long. i promise. you can go back to sleep.”

another groggy huff. you’re both still standing by the edge of the bed, and satoru still won’t let you leave. all you can do is sigh, smearing a little kiss against his neck.

he squirms, ever so slightly, and you get an idea.

so you keep pressing little kisses against his skin, knowing just how to make him melt. feeling him relax in your embrace, snuggle into your chest, so pliant that he lets you tuck him in — as long as your lips stay pressed against his jaw. before he can realize what’s happening, you grab hold of the blanket, draping it over him; his half-lidded eyes blinking up at you. you press a final kiss against his forehead, grabbing the cat plushie from the edge of the bed and placing it close enough for satoru to reach if need be.

”i’ll hurry, toru. be a good boy and stay here, alright?”

a teasing lilt sneaks into your voice, coaxed out by how adorable your boyfriend looks like this; baby blue eyes all droopy, snowy hair messy as it falls across the cushion he’s resting on. blinking sluggishly, grunting a little in response.

when you scurry off the bed and make your way towards the door, you glance back at him. he’s still looking in your direction, with half-lidded eyes, and your chest aches. ”i’ll be back soon, baby,” you try to soothe him. “try to sleep.”

this time, you hurry. body working almost on autopilot, images of your boyfriend still tugging at your heartstrings like he’s arranging an orchestra, moving your legs forward. before you know it, you’re walking back, carrying a tray with both your hands. steam wafts up from the hot soup and the warm cup of tea, shaking a little as you walk, a pair of painkillers in your pocket. just in case he needs more. an eager, pulsating joy rushes through your veins — now you can be with him, tend to him, not leave him alone in a room so like him you wish you could stay there forever.

your footsteps are light, almost careful as they cross the threshold. satoru stirs, waiting for you to come to his side, looking like a kicked puppy in his giant bed. he tries to lift himself up, but it looks like it requires an intense amount of focus, like his elbows could buckle any second.

”careful,” you croon, hurrying over, placing the tray on the nightstand. gently pushing him back down on the mattress. he complies almost instantly, too out of it to put up a real fight. staring at you, as if in awe.

to satoru, you appear almost as an angel, a somewhat blurry figure that he recognizes without looking. your very presence is soothing, like a lullaby in human form. with the hazy filter clouding his mind, he can’t even seem to form words correctly — all satoru can focus on is you. your movements, the lilt of your voice, a cold hand dulling the heat of his forehead.

his fever still hasn’t gone down. you try and muster a smile, but you’re sure it must look painfully coated in unease. crouching down, you place your elbows on the bed, your jaw meeting the mattress. you’re at eye level with him, now.

”hey,” you start, low and comforting. you don’t want to be too loud. ”sorry it took so long.”

using what little energy he has left, satoru crosses the distance between you, inching closer and closer. noticing it, you reach a hand out to cup his cheek — lips quick to find his forehead. a barely audible sigh leaves him, and you smile.

”d’you think you can eat?” you whisper, gazing at him fondly. treating him a little like a baby, maybe, but you can’t help it when he’s like this. quiet as a mouse. ”i made soup and tea… sound okay?”

he tries to make a noise. it comes out sounding like a strange blend between a dissatisfied groan and an affirming hum, but he still ends up nodding slightly. you wonder if indulging you is ingrained into his bone structure.

”… okay. think you can sit up, toru?”

once again, your boyfriend only hums — but he does begin to move, trying to hoist himself up, wobbling pitifully. you help, keeping him steady until his spine meets the headboard. slumped against it, he blinks slowly, feverishly.

”thank you.” you press a chaste kiss against his cheek, before reaching for the cup of tea, the scent of chamomile and lavender filling your senses. you blow on it softly. ”here. it should help with your throat, so try to drink a bit, okay? s’ got honey in it.”

silently, he accepts the cup, bringing it to his lips. when he takes a sip, you catch the slightest hint of a grimace on his lips; even with your warning of careful, it’s hot, you think he must have managed to burn his tongue.

satoru keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting to worry you. but he can’t say bringing himself to drink it is an easy endeavor, with how sweaty it makes him feel, how it forces him to acknowledge how painfully dry his throat is. how he can’t even taste the herbs.

he wants to be good for you, though.

so he gulps it down, slowly, managing to sip almost all of it until you decide to give him a break. compared to this morning, he already feels just a little better, a little less like he’s in a fever dream. you’re sitting by the bedside, so patient, so caring. he can’t take his eyes off you, even now. clearing his throat, attempting to get used to speaking again. ”thanks.”

the mutter sounds strained, but slightly easier on the ears, easier to make out than before. courtesy of the honey, you assume. gosh, you hadn’t realized you’d begun to miss his voice so much.

”no problem,” you hum, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “think you can eat something? or is that too much?”

”’course,” he croaks. there’s a slight sense of liveliness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, but before he can continue, he’s caught off by a small coughing fit. harmless, but sufficient in making you worry.

”no need to force yourself,” you soothe, patting down his head, watching as he quiets down. the tea might’ve given him a temporary energy boost, but you still don’t want him to overdo it. “just relax, satoru.”

he hums, weakly, and you reward him with a light ruffle of his hair. then you direct your attention to the soup on the nightstand, still hot, smelling of vegetable broth and fresh chicken and coriander. you bring the bowl down to your lap, and take a spoonful of the soup, blowing on it like you did with the tea. bringing it towards his lips.

”i dunno if it’ll taste very good,” you admit, scratching absently at the back of your neck. ”but it should help with the fever, at least. i’d be happy if you could eat a bit.”

as his lips make contact with the metal of the spoon, satoru can’t help but let himself be swept away. he still feels a little too hazy, too feverish to really comprehend what’s happening; he feels oddly bare like this, vulnerable, a little afraid of what might come out of his mouth if he doesn’t keep it shut. so he opts to accept the treatment he’s receiving, not putting up a fight or making a fuss. not meeting your expectant eyes.

(he feels a little shy, being spoonfed by you. how very unlike him.)

the soup does feel soothing. he thinks he can even get a sense of the taste, how hard you must’ve worked on it. but more than anything, the way you’re acting is like balm to his soul — looking at him so kindly, treating him so tenderly. offering him spoon after spoon with gentle words of encouragement. being babied in such a way makes him feel so oddly content that he’s almost embarrassed. it should be the other way around.

yet here you are, spoonfeeding him soup that you made yourself, because he’s sick, even though he hates to admit it, and you care about him. he allows the information to linger in the back of his head, for a while, wallowing in the comfort it brings him. fully comprehending it would take too much of a toll on him, in this state.

satoru basks in the intimacy of the situation, and so do you. brushing strands of hair away when they stick to his skin, pressing your lips against his forehead to check his temperature. you keep doing it until satoru’s appetite dwindles.

”alright, that should be fine —” you glance down at the bowl, now roughly half-empty. more than enough, you think. ”uhh… how do you feel?”

”… better,” satoru answers, truthfully, the ghost of a smile on his glossy lips. ”thank you.”

for a second, you only stare, saying nothing. there’s something in satoru’s expression that catches you off guard, something that’s a little hard to identify. is it the way the light reflects off his skin, his pupils? the red, feverish flush of his skin? that flimsy little smile? or is it the honesty in his eyes, the way he’s looking at you like he’s trying to convey something he can’t put into words?

as you look at him, take him in, the boy you love so dearly, you can’t help but feel like he just carved open his chest — let you peek inside his ribcage. it’s hard not to feel flustered, in the presence of something so vulnerable.

and he’s thanking you. as if taking care of him is a great burden, a chore, something you’d demand gratitude for. you want to tell him that it’s the bare minimum, the very least of what he deserves. the very least of what you could, should do for him.

you want to tell him that he’s safe, here. that there’s no need to be the strongest, whatever the hell that means, that he can let go of the burdens you know he hides from you. that he can just be your sick, terribly stubborn boyfriend.

”… okay,” is all you breathe out, every other word getting stuck in the back of your throat. ”that’s good.”

satoru’s fingers curl around yours, suddenly, where they lay on your lap. his movements are still a little groggy, disoriented, as he brings your hand up to his lips. they’re warm and soft, especially so in light of his fever. he closes his eyes, white lashes catching the light of the sun, flitting in through the haphazardly closed blinds. your heartbeat stutters.

”… love you,” he mutters. a soft little thing. your eyes don’t leave his face. and your lips part before your brain can instruct them to.

”i love you too,” you blurt out, instantaneous. like you couldn’t bear to keep him waiting, even for a second. ”… satoru.”

he smiles against your skin. he always does, at the sound of those words. you make him feel so terribly, terribly weak, all the time, everyday. you make him feel so human, and he can’t bring himself to think of it as a bad thing anymore.

he’s still cradling your hand when he brings it down to the blanket. ”thanks for coming,” he continues, pushing himself. trying to get the words out while he still has the energy to say them. “you didn’t have to.”

they’re a little clumsy, a little stale on his tongue, but they’re honest. he is thankful — the prospect of being seen like this is discomforting, gruelingly so, but he doesn’t mind nearly as much if it’s you. he’d never tell you, but he did feel just a little lonely, when he woke up this morning. disoriented, enveloped by hot flashes of pain, in a way he’s not used to in the slightest. missing out on your date, too, that he had been looking forward to ever since you decided on a time.

but, as if sensing it, you came to his rescue. the feeling of your lips on his skin was the first sensation he felt, when he woke up for the second time — with you by his side, this time. his guardian angel, carrying the scent of spring with you. a memory of a certain boy, of better times.

(satoru thinks you’re nostalgia personified. he likes to imagine that you met as children, underneath a cherry tree somewhere, but he knows it’s not true. there’s no way he wouldn’t remember you.)

you smile. pleased, at his show of vulnerability, small as it may be. ”i wanted to,” you assure him. equally honest, equally full of double meanings and hidden messages that neither of you need to uncover to understand. ”… i care about you. of course i’d come.”

a light, raspy chuckle; that’s all satoru manages to vocalize. his mind is stuffed, and there’s an ache in his chest, longing to be filled. it’s been there for a while now. but somehow, you seem to fill it up, slowly but surely, almost effortlessly — with every sound you make, every slight movement, every flicker of an expression on your face. everything seems so effortlessly perfect, in his eyes.

the words leave his lips before his mind can think the thought to reel them back in.

”what did i do to deserve you…?”

you blink. a moment passes.

then your eyes soften, considerably so, crumbling at the corners like the cookies satoru loves so much. he’s looking at you, eyes soft in a similar sense, layered over with adoration. you think the love inside your chest might crawl out of your throat and eat him alive.

you give him a chuckle of your own, quivering slightly. terribly fond. this time, you’re the one who drags his hand up to meet your lips; kissing his knuckle softly. his breath hitches.

”i’m the one who should be saying that to you,” you grin, a little weakly. and you mean it. you don’t think you’ve ever meant anything more.

it’s so honest that it strikes a cord right down his heart, more heat than the fever can account for rushing to his cheeks. satoru hopes you don’t notice it. all he can do is squeeze your fingers, lightly, not trusting his voice not to break. silence lingers, and you only gaze at him softly.

”… do you want anything else?” you finally ask, with a tilt of your head. still so eager to assist, racking your brain to come up with anything else to do for him. ”i’ll get it for you, no matter what it is.”

and, truthfully, satoru thinks you’ve done more than enough. more than he could ever make up for. but he’s always been greedy, and there’s one thing, only one thing, one thing he can’t help but ask for. something he craves more than anything. he can’t help but indulge himself, indulge in his selfishness, in the need to feel your skin against his.

so he stretches his arms out, and looks at you with a distinctly needy glint in his eyes. his fingers move in a grabby motion, almost unconsciously, and he might’ve been embarrassed if he wasn’t still so feverish. all he wants is to keep you close, to make the hollowness inside his chest dissipate. you always make that lonely feeling go away.

needless to say, you heed his request. almost instantly, your heart pumping in a steady rhythm, with this visceral desire to keep him close, to protect him. and who are you to resist, when he’s asking you for it himself?

you waste no time crawling beneath the covers, situating yourself right next to your lover. only then do you finally, finally, reach your arms out to pull him close; so close you feel the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart. his cheek meets the softness of your chest, snuggling closer, and you card a hand through his soft locks. his arms reach around your midriff, a perfect puzzle piece, and he releases an audible sigh — deep and satisfied. in his tired, clingy state, he subconsciously throws a leg over yours, trapping you further.

you wouldn’t have it any other way.

finally, satoru can fall asleep. with the fever still clouding his senses, and your nimble fingers smoothing along his scalp, the occasional kiss to his head as he listens to your soft heartbeat, he’s drifted off before either of you know it. melting into you, into your warm embrace, cheek squished against your chest. tiny little breaths fall from his lips, and you feel like you’re cradling the whole world in your arms.

you’re relieved. making yourself comfortable on your back, with satoru sleeping soundly on top of you, hoping he’ll feel better when he wakes up. careful, even with your breathing, intent on letting him sleep. knowing he doesn’t get nearly as much rest as he should, most days.

before long, even you succumb to the cozy atmosphere, gradually dozing off. satoru is always warm, even more so now, and his weight is comforting.

stifling a yawn, you tug him a little bit closer, allowing your eyes to flutter shut. you could use a day of catching up on lost sleep, too.

when you wake up, you’re acutely aware of something poking your cheek.

it’s a ticklish sensation, sort of irritating, and it rouses you from your cozy slumber. disgruntled, so cruelly ripped away from your sweet dreams — satoru was in it, you think. you feel robbed.

still, you can’t be too mad. not when the real deal is right in front of you, eyes crinkled and full of warmth, a teasing smile on his lips. he’s still snuggled into your chest, all cozy and cute, as you lay on your back, propped up by a myriad of fluffy pillows. he looks up at you adoringly.

”well hello there,” he purrs, shooting a giddy little grin your way. still poking your cheek. ”wakey-wakey, sunshine!”

a series of blinks. you stir a little further, the sleepy haze of your brain beginning to slip off, slowly but surely. it takes a couple of seconds for you to remember why you’re here, what happened before you fell asleep.

”… hey,” you greet, at last, stifling a yawn and squeezing your eyes shut. stretching lazily, like a sleepy cat. ”how do you feel…?”

”i’m perfect. better than perfect, actually,” satoru chirps, a little cheeky, hoisting himself up so that he’s hovering above you. a hint of mischief in those pretty eyes. ”you’re a good nurse, y’know?”

you huff out a chuckle. as always, his actions reveal more than his words — you could tell he felt a lot better the moment you saw his smile, heard how he formed his words. “alright, that’s good,” you hum, exhaling softly. ”how long was i asleep? what time is it?”

”i woke up just now, too,” satoru lies, albeit a small one. he did wake up recently, only to spend what he thinks must’ve been at least fifteen minutes staring at you until he physically couldn’t take it anymore. he had to hear your voice, see your smile. it’s a personal record for him; usually he spends less time admiring your peaceful expression, far too eager to speak to you.

”it’s pretty late,” he continues, another small lie. pleased with himself. ”way too late for you to go back, actually. how about you spend the night?”

another blink, your eyelids heavy and droopy as they open and close. then you’re reaching for your phone on the nightstand, and checking the time. a smile is quick to bloom on your lips, teasing and bubbly, as you tilt your head to meet his gaze.

”it’s only four, satoru.”

”way, way too late,” he only reaffirms, flopping down on top of you again, keeping you from leaving. ”god knows what kinda creeps are out there at this hour — much too unsafe. i’m just looking out for you, baby.”

”of course,” you indulge him, a sly little roll of your eyes that makes him pout. ”you know i was planning on staying over anyway, right?”

”well, of course! i wouldn’t expect anything less from my favorite nurse.”

his eyes betray his words, gleaming with a sudden colour of excitement, all glitter and relief. a joy that clogs up his throat like seafoam, and spills out from his lips. you look down at him, for a second, unable to resist the temptation — reaching for his forehead with the back of your hand.

it’s significantly less scalding, now.

you let out a sigh, laced with relief, one you didn’t know you’d been holding in. ”it really has gone down,” you hum, stretching the sleep from your limbs again. “that’s good.”

satoru huffs. ”i said i was perfect, right? don’t you trust me, my sweet lover?”

”i never know with you,” you give him a huff of your own, exasperated. fond. “you said you were just fine this morning, too.”

”i was!” he whines. piling up lie after lie. “i totally could’ve made it to that date, you know. i got worse because you had no faith in my abilities.”

”right. of course.” you shoot him a lopsided grin. ”you just don’t wanna admit the fever beat your ass, huh?”

”see? no faith.” a chuckle slips from your lips, and satoru has to bite back a smile. ”unbelievable. i fought that fever off just for you, and here you are, laughing at me.”

”oh? i thought it was thanks to my top notch nursing skills?”

”well, that too! but it was mostly me.”

a sigh. “whatever you say.” then you’re smiling, once more, unable to help yourself. eyes crinkled at the edges, soft around the corners. ”i’m just glad you’re better. i was worried.”

satoru pouts, again, but you can tell he acknowledges it — your earnest concern. this is how you love, the both of you, through words that never say it all and actions that say the words your mouths can’t fit. decoding the meaning of it all in silent gestures, glints in your eyes. little truth games.

”you really thought a lil’ fever was gonna be enough to keep me down?” he shakes his head once, then twice. and you know that what he means to say is i never want you to worry. “c’mon, now, baby.”

another lighthearted roll of your eyes. ”yeah, yeah, yeah. my sincerest apologies, my strong, stubborn, totally-not-sick boyfriend.”

”don’t you mean your strong, perfect, beautiful, clever, flawless, totally-not-sick boyfriend?”

”don’t think i didn’t notice you sneaking the stubborn out of there.”

”hehe.”

a silent moment passes, something tender filling up the space between your words. satoru’s weight is still so comforting, like a big blanket, his arms enveloping you as he breathes in your scent. you’re so happy that he’s acting insufferable again.

”alright, my honeybee,” he suddenly chirps, breaking the silence, hoisting himself up. ”time to go. we can still get those crêpes if we hurry.”

you blink. once, then twice.

”… satoru.”

”yeah? what’s up?”

you give him an unimpressed look, gazing up at him, towering over you like he fully thought you’d be alright with letting him leave. ”you’re… not going out today,” you deadpan. “you know that, right?”

this time, he’s the one who blinks. once, then twice.

”huh? why not?”

”uh, because you’re sick, maybe?”

”what?” satoru pretends to be shocked, offended, as if he can’t believe you’d even suggest something so outrageous. ”i’m all better, though!”

you raise an eyebrow, thoroughly displeased. all better? ”your fever isn’t gone, satoru. it’s just not horrible anymore. you’ll get yourself even more sick if you go out now.”

”i won’t! seriously!” he insists, looking down at you with a sorry attempt at puppy dog eyes. ”i feel good enough to run a marathon!”

”you’re not doing that either,” you mutter. then a sigh, exasperated. you can’t let this charade go on for too long. ”come on, satoru — don’t be so stubborn. we can go there another time.”

”but —”

”besides, didn’t you say i have to spend the night because it’s too late to go outside? remember the creeps?” there’s amusement in your voice, a light smile on your lips. ”what if they get us?”

”well, they obviously won’t get you while i’m there,” he huffs. ”what, you don’t think i can protect you properly? you’re hurting me, angel.”

you bite back an incredulous laugh. god, he’s stubborn. you’re so in love with him you just barely restrain the urge to pull him in for a kiss.

”sa-to-ru,” you coo, dragging each syllable out, sending a shiver down his spine. ”we’re not going outside. end of discussion.”

”why not, though?” he continues to pout, still refusing to give in. resorting to cheap guilt-tripping. ”don’t you wanna go on a date with me? you don’t want to see me happy, is that it?”

you only sigh, thoroughly exasperated, reaching up to cup his cheek nonetheless. he nuzzles into it. ”you’re such a baby.”

”your baby.”

another sigh, to mask your adoration. at this rate, the back and forth will never end, so you scramble for solutions.

“can’t we just have our date here?” you suggest, after some contemplation. ”i bought some ice cream on my way here. we could watch a movie, or something. isn’t that enough?”

satoru’s eyes bore into yours. contemplative, as he lets the silence linger, gears turning inside his mind. he wants to go outside with you, wants to hold your hand and hear you hum happily as you bite into your crêpe; wants to steal a bite when you’re not looking.

but it is a tempting offer. you could eat ice cream, and binge a bunch of movies, and he could rest his head in your lap. coax you into playing with his hair.

(he’s maybe, just maybe, a little bit tired, too.)

so, finally, he sighs — softly. in resignation.

”… well, i guess that’s fine,” he pouts, allowing himself to fall back into your embrace. his voice is muffled, as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. ”i wanted crêpes, though…”

”i’ll get you your crepes,” you assure him, relieved to have reached a compromise. ”i can go buy ’em myself and come back. then we —”

”no, no, no!” satoru suddenly interjects. whining, tugging you closer. ”you’re not going anywhere. not without me!”

a sigh, just as adoring as it is fatigued. ”then i’ll… order crêpes, or something. or we’ll eat ice cream today and then crêpes when you’re better. does that sound okay?”

satoru is silent, for a while.

”… okay,” he hums. ”that’s fine.”

”haah. okay, good —”

”however!”

you give him a look, a silent what now? that has him smiling. shuffling a little, in your embrace, planting his jaw on top of your chest and gazing up at you with a grin. ”instead of the crêpes, i want a kiss.”

you blink. exasperated, as an amused chuckle follows. ”so convoluted. you can just ask, you know?” you don’t give him time to answer, eager to appease the pouty man. ”whatever.”

leaning in, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek. sweet and soft. to your surprise, he’s still pouting when you pull away. ”i meant on the lips,” he explains, as if it was obvious.

a tilt of your head.

”… but you’re sick.”

”so?” satoru just pouts, expression practically etched into his face at this point. ”you won’t kiss me anymore? just cause i’ve got a tiny, miniscule fever?” he huffs, turning his head to the right and shutting his eyes. ”if you don’t love me anymore, you can just say that.”

another sigh leaves your lips. he’s so ridiculous. you can’t really deny him, though.

”… fine. it’s your fault if i get sick, though.”

in the blink of an eye, he’s perked right back up. wagging his non-existent tail, closing his eyes and waiting for you to try again. silly.

but you relent. his lips are only slightly warmer than usual, and you choose to see it as the good sign it is, proof that his fever truly is starting to dissipate. you feel satoru relax, melting into the kiss, but before it can drag out too long you’ve pulled away. ”— there. happy now?”

”for now,” he quips, equally teasing. he’s cute, though. a little kiss or two is a small price to pay for the spark of joy in his iris, even if it ends with you sick on your deathbed in a couple of days.

”that’ll do,” you grin, hoisting yourself up with your elbows, carrying satoru with you, his jaw still on your chest. ”wanna go eat some ice cream, mr unreasonable?”

you don’t really need an answer. of course satoru wants ice cream. you’ve never seen him turn down anything sweet — and, lo and behold, he perks up again, getting into a sitting position. like an excited puppy.

”got it,” you chuckle, stopping to think for a moment. “there’s soup left, too. but maybe you’d rather order something? it turned out kinda so-so.”

satoru gapes. ”you kidding? that was the best soup i’ve ever had!”

his exclamation makes you roll your eyes, words so coated in confidence that you almost want to believe him. ”satoru. you don’t have to lie.”

”i’m not!”

”you couldn’t even taste it.”

”i could, i could!” he stubbornly whines. ”i tasted all your love. every single drop!”

you give him a look. he only grins at you, a little teasing, a little giddy. you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed; averting your gaze with a sharp scoff, trying to appear unbothered. ”yeah? and how did my love taste?”

satoru leans forward. it’s sudden, and you blink, instinctively leaning back in turn. he’s wearing a signature smirk when he stops moving, close enough that you feel his breath on your skin. hot.

”delicious,” he purrs, glancing down at your lips. blue eyes gleaming with mirth. ”best thing i’ve ever had.”

you know he’s just trying to fluster you, so you try to fight against it, but it doesn’t work nearly as well as you’d like — crumbling under his gaze, averting your own with a quiet huff. and he lets you off the hook, satisfied with your embarrassed expression. pulling back slightly, letting you breathe.

as swiftly as you can, you regain your composure. clearing your throat. ”well, you can have more of it later, then,” you make a move to get off the bed. ”let’s go eat ice cream.”

after being caged in by satoru for so long, your limbs are a little stiff, caught under the weight of his boundless love. when your feet hit the soft flooring, you stretch them out, watching satoru follow your lead. still clad in that sweaty shirt.

”you should probably get a change of clothes,” you suggest, exhaling as your muscles loosen up. ”you’ve been wearing that shirt all day.”

”oh? is that an excuse to see me out of it, sweetheart?” satoru grins, fresh mischief gleaming in his eyes. ”you know you can always just ask.”

you huff out a sardonic breath. ”yeah, yeah, whatever. throw on a hoodie or something, weirdo.” you stifle a giggle when he makes an offended noise behind you. “and some pants.”

”you don’t like the underwear?” he looks towards the corner of the room, studying himself in the mirror. “this is an expensive brand, you know?”

”you’re the only person on planet earth who’d give a fuck about underwear brands,” you scoff, a little snarky. ”just — put some comfortable clothes on, okay? i’ll go get the ice cream ready.”

”wait!” he exclaims, attaching himself to you, curling his arms around your bicep. “you’re not allowed to go anywhere without me, remember?”

“… okay, okay. hurry up and get changed, then.”

sitting back down on the bed, while satoru walks towards the closet, you scroll through your phone — refusing to meet his expectant stare. he wants you to look over, you’re well aware, just so he can tease you for trying to sneak a peek. but you’re not falling for it this time.

when he’s done, he’s wearing a comfy hoodie and some sweatpants. it’s a good look on him, casual and cozy. awfully cute. he wastes no time in attaching himself to you, again, an arm linked with yours as you travel to the kitchen; grabbing the pints of ice cream from the freezer, a couple snack bags from the drawers, before plopping down on the couch.

satoru maneuvers you into his lap, and you don’t put up a fight, leaning into him as your back meets his chest. he keeps you locked in place, arms around your waist, planting his jaw on the top of your head. and he relaxes, comforted by your smaller body pressed up against his. holding you so close satisfies a certain protective itch in his brain, never failing to calm him down. a safe haven, of sorts.

you watch the movie and eat the snacks, chattering away, letting the silence linger every now and then. after a while, satoru gets a slight headache, resting his head in your lap and whining for you to soothe him. you do so without any teasing; you’re much too soft for him. and he’s still sick, even if he’s doing better. you couldn’t resist him even if you tried.

so you opt to indulge him.

”baby, i think my fever’s going up again…” satoru pouts, gazing up at you through fluttering lashes. ”can you check?”

you smile, with a raise of your eyebrow. ”this is the fifth time you’ve asked me to check your temperature, toru.”

”just wanna make sure,” he whines. “please?”

with an exaggerated sigh, you lean down, lips once again meeting his forehead — humming against his skin. nope, his temperature hasn’t gone up. just like it hadn’t gone up the last time you checked, or the time before that.

”you’re good.”

”oh, thank god,” he exhales. ”are you sure? like, a hundred percent sure? maybe you should check again. just in case.”

”satoru,” you coo, a teasing lilt on the tip of your tongue. ”you can just ask me if you want a kiss.”

”a kiss? scandalous. i just wanna make sure my condition doesn’t worsen.”

he’s grinning, and you’re rolling your eyes, and both of you know damn well you’re going to indulge him anyway. he sighs in satisfaction when he feels your soft lips on his heated skin.

”hmm…” you narrow your eyes, thoughtfully, before looking down at him with a teasing smile. ”nope. definitely still the same temperature.”

”you sure?”

”a hundred percent.”

”hmm. okay, got it.” he rolls over, burying his face in your stomach. wrapping his limbs around your midriff. “that’s good. just wanted to check, you know?”

”of course.”

”might need you to check again soon. just to be safe,” he chirps, biting back a soft grin. you don’t bother hiding yours.

”got it, got it,” you coo, fingers carding through his messy hair. “anything for my sick baby.”

satoru releases a soft breath, bordering on a giggle. you can’t help but let your smile grow wider, heart brimming with affection. you let it clog up your chest until the movie’s almost over, and you simply can’t help yourself anymore.

”your room is very like you.”

it’s sudden, breaking the peaceful silence, making satoru stir. you’re both starting to get sleepy again. but he blinks up at you, studying your expression before parting his lips.

”… oh? how so?”

“well…” you stop to think. humming, absently fidgeting with a lock of your boyfriend’s hair. ”when i first walked in, i thought the whole house felt kind of empty, you know?”

satoru hums. unsure of where the conversation is going, maybe just a little intrigued. he mostly just likes listening to you talk.

”but then i went into your room, and — it just felt very you. kinda messy, and stuff, but cozy. and a little sentimental.” satoru looks up at you, admiring that certain soft glimmer in your eyes. you meet his stare with a smile. ”maybe it doesn’t make sense? i guess i’ve just been thinking about it.”

he closes his eyes.

there’s something soft in your tone, something silky and simple, and he can tell you’re being sincere. it’s something he likes about you — that willingness to be soft, almost pridefully so, to bare yourself even if you aren’t sure that he’ll return the favour. he likes to think it’s rubbing off on him, slowly but surely; he doesn’t think he’s quite as bad as before. telling you about things that are dear to him isn’t something that scares him, anymore. and even when you see him vulnerable, sick and delirious in bed, he isn’t afraid that you’ll use it against him.

you’re a comfort; his safe haven. a place to rest his weary head. maybe you always have been, even before he really got to know you.

”i like your place more,” he finally admits, lighthearted in its weight. your gaze flits down, but his is still lingering on the tv, not really paying attention to it. ”it feels very… you.”

a smile crawls up to rest against your lips. playing along, your hands finding solace in between his fluffy locks. ”how so?”

and satoru smiles. eyes sparkling with something mellow, like a soda pop cracked open on a boiling summer day. he shifts a little, just to gaze up at you again. ”it’s… homely. warm,” his smile only grows. “and awfully sentimental.”

he lifts a hand up, to touch your cheek. tender, as his thumb smooths against your skin. it’s warm, beneath his touch, heating up with every word he speaks. satoru’s love feels a little like the sun, when it spills out this fervently, like it could burn you into cinders — you think you’d be happy to lie in the ashes. he’s smiling at you, like sunshine, like little dusty specks of light. and he exhales.

”i wouldn’t mind staying there forever.”

the expression on his face is a lovely one. you take a moment to simply bask in it, desperate to etch it into your memory. you don’t think you could forget it even if you tried. how fondly the light of the room embraces him, that soft grin he’s shooting your way, only vaguely teasing. and his eyes, the gateways to his soul, so sincere you can’t look away.

you love this man with your whole chest. you knew before, you’ve known for a long time, but each day you fall in love all over again. it’s all you can think as you look at him, all snug and safe and happy in your lap.

you don’t realize you’ve been staring at him silently until he chuckles, pulling you out of your sentimental stupor. it only flusters you further.

”you’re cute,” satoru croons, still cradling your cheek. tender, soft fingertips against your heated skin. all you manage is a meek little furrow of your brows, but that only makes him chuckle again.

”… you can.”

he blinks. still smiling.

”stay forever, i mean.”

you can’t look at him, when you say it. the words are barely above a whisper, and you aren’t sure if they’re conscious or not. it’d be nice to say they just slipped out, but they feel somewhat deliberate, all the same. you know you mean them, either way. it’s the one thing you’re sure of.

this time, satoru is the one who can do nothing but stare, his expression unreadable. you try not to let your gaze wander to his face, his eyes; but through the peripheral of your vision, you feel like you catch a particular kind of sadness reflected in them. or maybe it’s something closer to yearning, longing. something like that.

”… well,” he finally hums, voice so low you barely pick up on it. ”maybe i will, then.”

you reach something.

you catch a glimpse of it, at least, for just a second or two. something warm and bare, something simple and incomprehensible at the same time. an emotion so strong it leaves you reeling, yet still so light. it’s there and then it isn’t, just out of reach, and you think that if you could only find the courage to curl your fingers around his, then —

a laugh track plays from the tv, snapping you both out of your thoughts.

(the moment passes before you can fully understand it, fully comprehend it. maybe some part of you already has.)

…

satoru chuckles, reaching for another ball of mochi and popping it into his mouth. ”this movie’s awful, huh?”

”yeah,” you’re quick to agree, maybe a little too quick. grinning weakly. ”it’s good in a so bad it’s good kinda way, though.”

he hums in absentminded agreement, still chewing on the soft treat. keeping his gaze steady on the screen, the flicker of emotional scenes he hasn’t been keeping track of, barely resisting the urge to look up at you again. but his heart already feels a little too mushy for his liking — he’s not sure he could take it.

satoru doesn’t get sick often.

his immune system is strong, there’s no denying that. but more than anything, he simply can’t afford to be sick. there are people who need him, people who depend on him, and the idea of being in such a defenseless state — stuck in bed while the world continues to spin, unattended — makes him feel so anxious he could throw up. even sleeping makes him feel a little skittish, sometimes, though he’s gotten a lot better since he started falling asleep with you in his arms.

it’s funny, he thinks. before you, being sick wasn’t something that really existed in his world. if he felt a little under the weather he would simply puff out his chest and down a painkiller or two, waving it off with a flick of his wrist; no biggie, really. he’s satoru gojo, after all, and the world needs his eyes on it.

but then you came along. you came to his rescue, spring in your pockets, and you took care of him, with what he knows to be love. genuine, earnest concern for his wellbeing. his happiness.

yeah — it’s funny, for sure. satoru never thought he’d ever enjoy being sick.

yet here he is, head in your lap, feeling you run your fingers through his hair. kissing his forehead whenever he whines, indulging his little convoluted ploys. bringing him soup, when he gets hungry again, soup you made yourself. he wasn’t kidding when he said he tasted your love through it; it was all he could taste, with his numbed out senses, all he could feel.

you’re so good to him. there’s nothing he would trade for these moments with you, absolutely nothing. he’s glad you came over, after all. glad you’re so stubborn, and oh so caring. satoru can’t help but smile, heart almost stuffed to the brim with gratitude — what could he possibly do with this immense love in his chest?

”i love you so much,” he blurts out, practically beaming. now you’re in his lap, again, and he takes the opportunity to smear openmouthed kisses against your neck. delighting in the little squeak you try to muffle.

”where did that come from?” you blink, squirming a little in his embrace. a movie is still playing on the tv screen, one better than the last — your attention was fixed on it before satoru broke the silence.

”just felt like saying it!” he only chirps, grinning ear to ear. ”i love you. you’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he murmurs, earnestly, lips against your skin. ”my whole world.”

for a moment, you wonder if the fever is making him delirious. then again, this is pretty standard for satoru; always eager to fluster you, to shower you with love until you’re pushing him away. it’s overwhelming, but you’ve never minded. this is how you measure his love — little gaps between too much and never enough.

”… you’re not gonna say it back?” comes a whine, right by your ear. now he’s nibbling at your neck, little beast that he is, pouting because you let the silence linger for too long. he’s being such a baby about it. but you still rush to reassure him, echoing his words in earnest.

”i love you too, satoru,” you smile, slightly exasperated. craning your neck so that your lips can meet his jaw, and satoru grins, giddy at the attention. ”my whole universe.”

satoru lets out a happy little noise, almost a giggle, sleepy and pleased. his arms squeeze you just a little tighter, like you could never be close enough, even when he’s got you in his lap like this. if he could, he’d keep you there all the time. attached at the hip, close as can be.

even with a ruined date, even after worrying you, he feels well and truly satisfied. because you're here, and you’re watching a good movie, and you’re gonna stay over tonight. when it gets dark out, he’ll get to fall asleep cuddled up beside you, hold you in his arms and feel you nuzzle into his chest. then he’ll pepper your face with kisses to wake you up, and you’ll grumble all sweetly, and he’ll carry you to the kitchen despite your grumpy protests. you’ll eat breakfast together, chatting and enjoying the way the sunlight flickers around the room like a happy cat. maybe he can even make you breakfast himself, to thank you for today.

if the fever’s gone by then, you’ll probably let him outside. then you can go get those crêpes, and maybe go to a park, or to the movie theatre, or a fun arcade, before heading back to your apartment to relax. and then he’ll stay over. the day after, too. and the day after that.

living together with you wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks. it wouldn’t be bad at all, actually.

the thought has been on his mind for a while, now. getting to fall asleep with you every night, eat breakfast with you every morning, see more of your footprints in his life… satoru can’t think of anything he’d like more. maybe he’ll start hinting at it, slowly but surely. if he can lure you into broaching the subject, that would be ideal — but if he has to, he doesn’t mind doing it himself. you’re worth the emotional toll.

you curl into your boyfriend a little further, his jaw now resting cheekily on the top of your head, large palms underneath your shirt and rubbing circles into your bare skin. you have no idea what he’s thinking, no idea about his plans, and he thinks that’s for the best. he knows you’ll indulge him, at the end of the day.

maybe he’ll just ask you, tomorrow. if you say no, he can just blame it on the fever making him delirious.

#save me sick soft sweet sappy satoru….. save me……..#he means the wholeeee universe to me :’3 i love this specific toru sm !! i really do think he’s a lonely sweetie at heart :((#i wrote this fic a LONG time ago but i polished it a bunch so hopefully it doesnt feel rusty !!#i scrambled to come up w a title in time but i think this one kinda slaps idk … im severely sleepy rn so it might. Not be. though 😭😭#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x y/n

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