♡ ׄ PATCHWORK ✉️ ۫ ❛
your daughter “ helping ” you patch
up satoru after shinjuku ໒꒰ྀི › ⸝⸝ ก꒱ྀི১
“papa, don’t move . . .” your daughter huffed as she pressed a pink sticker over satoru’s cheek. her tiny brows furrowed in utter and absolute concentration.
“sorry doc,” satoru hummed, “won’t do it again,” immediately surrendering to the demands of your tiny daughter who was ever so determined to “fix papa.”
you watched the quiet chaos unfold, the living room covered in the plastic sheets of discarded stickers, fake medical tools scattered across the wooden floors.
somewhere along the way, what was meant to be a simple task turned into your daughter decorating her father like an arts and crafts project.
not that satoru minded, of course.
if anything, he was more than pleased.
he sat shirtless at the foot of the couch, revealing the fresh bandages wrapped around his torso and arms, white fabric stark against his skin. faint remnants of dried blood still lingered near his collarbone despite your attempts to clean him up earlier. and yet, right in the middle of it all, sat a tiny sticker of a smiling strawberry.
another one resting on the bridge of his nose.
“you missed a spot,” you hummed teasingly to your daughter, knees pressed to your chest as you sat across from them.
she quickly scrambled into his lap from the floor, tangling herself in his unreasonably long limbs as she reached for another ‘my melody’ bandaid from the colorful box beside him, tongue poking out slightly in concentration — a habit painfully inherited from her father.
just hours ago, you weren’t even sure if he’d make it home.
the memory alone made your stomach twist: the exhaustion of his usually vibrant eyes, the way he could hardly stand the minute he walked through the door.
he sat on the floor letting your daughter cover his once fatal injuries with glitter stars and sanrio characters.
you should yell at him. you should be angry, ask him: what the hell he was thinking? coming home half-dead with a stupid grin on his face. it was ridiculous, but yet you knew he did it for your sake. he didn’t want to scare you, though he had done it anyway.
but instead, the words died in your throat the minute your daughter proudly pressed another bandaid onto his skin, injured, yes, but full of life all the same.
“done!” she announced proudly, squeezing satoru’s cheeks together, making him chuckle. he pulled down her tiny wrists from his face before he looked at you, a somber smile resting on your lips.
without saying a word, he reached over, dragging you to his side by your wrist, making you gasp, sliding you across the floor effortlessly. “satoru?? what’s wrong with—”
“ah.” he pressed a finger to your lips, letting it sit there.
“i think mama needs a sticker,” he hummed softly, blue eyes never once leaving yours, his large hand cradling your face as his thumb brushed against your cheek.
of course he didn’t really mean a sticker. it was code for please don’t cry.
you bit down on your lip as you tucked yourself against his side—holding back tears of frustration and fragile relief—cherishing the familiar warmth that had almost been ripped away from you.
your daughter — blissfully unaware of what was really going on — gasped, “yea! mama needs a sticker!” before aggressively peeling off a glittery pink star and slapping it between your eyes, making your husband laugh.
“don’t you feel better mama?” satoru asked lightly, voice softer than the smile he held on his face.
you let out an amused scoff, rolling your eyes as you quickly wiped away a stray tear. “i suppose…”
“there!” she spoke proudly. “now everybody’s fixed.”
and for a moment, with him beside you and her beaming at the both of you, it almost felt true.
perhaps because it was true.
ok so this was supposed to be cute and funny but now im sick
gracieabrams
turnnoffyourmind
blakekathryn
titsay
gamechangershow
romaincrisis
