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Tsumugi wakes up with a splitting headache, which, in itself, isn’t such an abnormal occurrence. She chalks it down to the fact that her laptop is still open and overheating on her lap and swings her legs out from under the covers, feeling around the floor with her bare feet until she finds her slippers and standing up. Her alarm, which she hasn’t dismissed yet, tells her that Kaito should be here to pick her up for their date in the next hour, so she should really start getting ready.
As soon as she’s standing upright, Tsumugi’s world tilts and spins. Gasping softly, she reaches for the nightstand, fingers digging into the polished wood while she waits for there to be one carpet again. Her surroundings are fuzzy enough without her glasses on, but the blurry posters on her walls are rocking back and forth, and that headache only worsens the longer she stands.
Sinking back into her mattress, Tsumugi shivers, hugging herself tightly and rubbing her arms. She’s cold, all of a sudden, yet her skin is warm to the touch. An ache spreads through from the base of her neck to the bottom of her spine, and though she’s sitting now, her surroundings continue to dance to music she can’t hear. Maybe that Monster Energy at midnight last night really was an awful idea, or maybe Tsumugi is sick.
After a third pass on the nightstand, Tsumugi manages to locate her glasses. Her hands shake as she slides them onto her face, but the added clarity is a relief. She squints through the lenses, waiting for her room to still, but it doesn’t. Tsumugi is definitely sick, if the way sweat pools at the small of her back and her temples is any indication. This is a problem—Tsumugi acknowledges this vaguely, objectively, like you’d acknowledge that a rainstorm could be an inconvenience to somebody while you’re already safely inside the house—but Tsumugi is suddenly having a difficult time remembering why. It’s like her thoughts are all scrambled, out of order. There’s a nasty taste lingering on her tongue, like a combination of awful morning breath and the Monster she drank last night, and her head pounds with every shrill repetition of her alarm.
…Oh, her alarm. Tsumugi pats down her bed until she finds her phone and finally dismisses the alarm, letting out a sigh of relief when her room is blanketed in quiet. With her laptop closed, her screen brightness all the way down, and the curtains drawn, it’s just dark enough in here not to aggravate her headache. Still, as Tsumugi brings her phone in front of her face, tabbing into her messages, she massages her temple and chews her lower lip.
Kaito’s sent her three text messages already. He always gets pretty excitable when they have dates planned. The first is a simple good morning message—from six o’clock, Tsumugi really hates that she has feelings for a normie—and the other two are sweet, cheerful messages expressing how excited he is for their date today. It truly is a shame. Kaito always gets excited for their dates, but today in particular he must really be vibrating in place; they made plans last weekend to see the new space adventure film that just hit the theatres. Kaito’s been talking about it since the trailers dropped.
Tsumugi momentarily weighs the pros and cons of masking up and going anyway, if only to see her boyfriend’s excited face as they watch the film, and then decides against it. It would be just plain irresponsible of her to do something like that. That aside, Kaito almost always catches whatever bug she’s carrying whenever she comes down with something like this, and he’s easily the worst sick person Tsumugi knows. It’d be cursing the both of them, really. Better that she just takes the L.
She types out a quick apology and explanation to Kaito, then turns off her phone and tosses it to the side. She should shower, change, and drink some water. Tsumugi doubts she’ll be able to keep anything down right now, but she should at least try and stay hydrated. Honestly, she can’t even remember the last time she drank proper water, which perhaps is part of the whole headache issue right now—but Tsumugi knows already that as soon as she’s better she’s going to go back to a diet of cup noodle, coffee, and energy drinks, so there’s no point in continuing that train of thought. Right now, she should focus on getting better so she can go see that movie with Kaito.
It takes her three attempts to reach the bathroom without stumbling. By the time she’s inside, arms shaking where they hold her up on the bathroom counter, she realises that she’s forgotten a change of clothes, and has to return to her bedroom to grab one. In light of the fact that she actually won’t be seeing Kaito today, she picks one of the shirts she nabbed off of him the last time she spent the night at his house, and a loose pair of shorts before slipping back into the bathroom and stripping to get into the shower.
Tsumugi can only stay under the hot water for what feels like half an hour—but in reality is more like five minutes—before the air gets too thick and wet and her head starts to spin. She climbs out of the bathtub and leans against the sink, water dripping off of her and soaking into the shower mat, and closes her eyes, massaging her temples again. This truly is miserable. Electronics always make her feel so much worse when she’s already sick, too, so she’ll have nothing to do but lounge around in bed all day thinking about how terrible she feels. Despite how heavy she feels, both in body and mind, she doubts she’ll be able to get to sleep. Tsumugi really hates being sick.
She’s making a halfhearted attempt at drying her hair with a towel when the doorbell rings. Tsumugi furrows her brow, dropping the towel to the floor, and pulls Kaito’s shirt over her head, fumbling her way out of the bathroom and down the hall to the front door. Usually, she would check before she opens it, but Tsumugi’s head is only more scrambled after that shower, and she ends up shakily unlatching the bolt and pulling the door open without even thinking about it, stumbling forward into the chest of whoever it is that needs her.
“Woah!”
A crinkled thud accompanies the statement; two large hands come up to rest on Tsumugi’s shoulders. She leans into the touch, and the familiar smell of cologne, without really thinking about it, her eyes fluttering closed. One of those hands moves down to Tsumugi’s lower back and carefully straightens her out, the other crawling up to cup her cheek and tilt her head upwards. Without her glasses on, Tsumugi can only barely make out the features of the person above her, but she knows that voice, that smell, can see blurry magenta and dark skin. His calloused hand, too, is familiar against her face.
“You really are sick,” Kaito mutters. He brushes his thumb under Tsumugi’s eye, and she can’t help but lean into it, breathing out. Normally Kaito radiates heat, but with Tsumugi burning up as she is, his skin is pleasantly cool against hers. It’s only the smallest, most rational parts of Tsumugi’s brain that keep her from clinging to him like a tired cat for more of that gentle touch. “You get your flu shot yet, or have you not gotten around to it?”
“Mmmm,” Tsumugi responds. Kaito’s voice rumbles through his chest. She can barely make out what he’s saying. “Sorry, I can’t make the movie with you today.”
Kaito chuckles, but it’s more of a concerned, incredulous sound than his usual laugh. “Yeah, I gathered. You texted me about it.” His hand moves from Tsumugi’s face to her hair, gently carding through it. “You gonna let me in?”
“You’re already in my heart,” Tsumugi murmurs. She leans heavily into the touch, knees feeling weak. “Try not t’ break anything.”
“Okay,” Kaito laughs this time. There’s still that note of worry in his voice, but this time, he doesn’t ask any questions, pulling his hand out of Tsumugi’s hair. A moment later, the ground leaves her, and Tsumugi’s cheek is squished against Kaito’s jacket. She realises as she hears the front door click shut that he’s likely picked her up. The world sways slightly as he pads into her bedroom, but she doesn’t complain, merely closing her eyes and snuggling into his neck, breathing in the smell of his aftershave and listening to his heartbeat. Kaito is holding her with one strong arm tucked underneath her legs. He really is like some kind of shonen protagonist.
She tells him as much as he deposits her into her bed.
Kaito chuckles again, a low, amused sound as he pulls the blankets out from beneath her. “I used to read those comics as a kid,” he mutters. “Haven’t had a lot of time for them lately, though. I’ve been meaning to ask you to lend me some.”
“What’s mine is yours,” Tsumugi slurs. “‘cept my Naruto collection. Those are antiques.” She shifts grumpily as Kaito pulls her blankets up to her neck. “Cost me… shit ton of money.”
“I know better than to fuck with your collection,” Kaito promises. His hand comes around to smooth down the hair on Tsumugi’s forehead, and then he must lean closer, because Tsumugi feels a pair of lips pressing against her face. As he pulls back, Tsumugi lets out a noise of complaint.
“My mouth’s down here.”
“If I kiss you on the lips, I’m gonna get sick,” Kaito chastises. He sounds amused, though. “I’m gonna make you some soup, okay? You think you’ll keep without me?”
Tsumugi mulls it over. “No.”
“...Okay.”
There’s some shifting as Kaito lies down next to her, an arm wrapping around her, the blanket the only barrier between his jacket and Tsumugi’s pajamas. Or Kaito’s pajamas, rather, as she’s still wearing his shirt. That’s somewhat romantic. Tsumugi giggles at the thought as she tucks her face into his chest. She’d never imagined herself having something like this, a real life boyfriend who would come over on a day they’re meant to be seeing a movie just to take care of her.
Some of the bubbly amusement drains out of her at the thought. Kaito really was looking forward to that movie, wasn’t he? Tsumugi lifts her arm and fists it in the fabric of Kaito’s jacket, tucking her face away out of sight.
One of his hands cups the back of her head. “Something wrong?”
“Sorry,” Tsumugi responds. “This is just plain inconvenient for you. The filler episodes never happen when there are important plot points coming up.”
“This isn’t an anime, though,” Kaito murmurs. He strokes Tsumugi’s hair again as he speaks, carefully untangling the wet waves. “Not like you chose to get sick. Besides, this ain’t filler! Taking care of my girlfriend is always gonna be plot relevant.” Tsumugi can hear the smile in his voice, can feel it when his lips press against the top of her head. “Promise.”
Kaito only knows what those words mean because they’ve been dating for so long. Before they got together, he didn’t even understand what “shipping” meant. The fact that he’s speaking her language, though, somehow means even more than the reassurance. Tsumugi snuggles into his chest and lets out a breath.
“Mmmmkay. I’ll make it up to you.” As an afterthought, “Don’t get sick.”
“I’ll do my best,” Kaito chuckles. He presses another kiss to the crown of Tsumugi’s head. “Try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll make you some soup later. Gran’s got the best recipe.”
Tsumugi doesn’t know how much she’ll really be able to taste it, given how she’s sick and all, but the inherent domesticity of her boyfriend—who hits the gym four times a week—cooking for her while she’s sick is simply too appealing to ignore. She plants a sloppy kiss to his clothed chest and slumps down, releasing her grip on his shirt, and closes her eyes properly. Though earlier she hadn’t thought that she’d be able to sleep, with Kaito here holding her, Tsumugi can already feel her consciousness leaving her.
Before she dozes off entirely, Tsumugi utters, “I want to spent all and every single one of my days until I die with you… ‘n only you.”
Kaito snorts. “I love you too, ‘Mugi.”
It’s with a vague hum that Tsumugi drifts off, relaxing into Kaito’s chest, thinking of an odd, sick-delirious combination of her boyfriend and Naruto.