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⟢ a/n: accidentally deleted it earlier so here it is again 😗
A soft smile curls at your lips as you gaze upon his sleeping face, two pointed ears peeking out amongst the strands of reddish hair, twitching towards your fingertips as you lightly caress one. Valko’s nose scrunches, and a little whine escapes his throat. You hold back a giggle at his reaction, endeared by how he’s no different to an affectionate puppy even as he slumbers.
Your hand scratches at the base of his ears before gently drifting down. You trace his handsome features. His bared forehead, the perfect canvas for kisses. His closed eyelids, hiding eyes that sparkle like shards of amber in the afternoon light. His straight nose that always finds its way into your neck or hair, always inhaling your scent so deeply, as if he's taking a breath of fresh air. And his lips too, soft, pillowy beneath your fingertips, the lower lip fuller than the top– lips that had spent all night kissing you, shaped around the contours of your name, smiling at you with a warmth not unlike sunlight.
Those same lips part around an exhale and you withdraw your hand a little, warmed by his breath. He shifts under the sheets, curling towards you, the arm draped around your waist tightening and tugging you close to his broad chest. His body feels almost feverishly warm, but it’s pleasant on this cool morning. A low hum vibrates in his chest as he begins to stir, nuzzling your hair sleepily and planting a kiss there.
“Where are you going,” he mumbles.
You scratch the short, fuzzy hairs at the back of his head. “Nowhere, silly. Been right here all morning.”
Valko grunts, dissatisfied with your answer. “Liar. You were far away. Left me all alone.”
“I think someone was dreaming,” you whisper, poking his nose.
“Hm. Maybe,” he says. Then, more quietly, “it felt real though.”
“Oh?” Twisting in his grasp, you move to look at him. He squints back.
“Mm. Someone took you from me. Or took me away from you?” He shakes his head, as if to clear it. “I don’t know. AllI know is that you kept getting further and further away from me.”
“Aw, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” you tell him, cupping his cheeks.
“Damn right,” he says, turning his head to kiss your palm before his tone turns flirty. “You could never leave all this.”
“Same goes for you, mister,” you say. “You’re not allowed to leave either.”
“Wouldn't dream of it,” he says with a lopsided smile, one of his wolf ears flopping down as he does so. The two of you settle down again, snug in one another’s arms.
After a few moments of quiet, Valko’s hand pauses in playing with your hair. “What would you do if I did?”
Your brow furrows. “Why? You’re not planning on turning tail already, are you?”
“‘Course not, baby. Just wondering.” His hand resumes combing through your hair thoughtfully.
“I’d be upset, obviously. We’ve only just started properly dating, and I…” You trail off, shy all of a sudden.
“What?”
Clearing your throat, you try again. “I… Well, I really like you. So it would hurt to see you go.”
Valko’s face breaks into a wide, cheeky smile, pointy fangs on full display. “Ohooo, so you like me, huh?” he teases, wiggling his thick brows at you. “How much?”
Heat blossoms in your cheeks, and you struggle to meet his eyes. “Valko!” you whine.
“Someone’s getting flustered!” he sings, all too entertained by your reaction. You quickly hide your burning face in his chest, letting it muffle your words, but he still hears you perfectly when you finally decide to speak up.
“A lot,” you admit. “Too much. Way too much.”
“Too much, huh?”
You look up at him with a scowl. “Yes! I mean, you’re a wolf, for crying out loud! That’s not normal, is it? I shouldn’t like you this much!”
“Hey, you got a problem with us wolves?” he frowns, ears drooping slightly.
“No!” you say, backtracking with a shake of your head, wanting to soothe him the minute you see his expression fall. “It’s just- well. You don’t get the average person dating a person that sprouts ears and a tail and howls at the moon, y’know? I guess, I just wasn’t expecting to ever be in this sort of situation. I’m still getting used to it.”
“When you put it like that, it makes sense. But also,” he adds, pausing for effect.
“What?”
He nuzzles your nose with his, a warm, honeyed smile curving at his lips. “I feel the same way about you. So it’s okay.”
You melt at his words, scratching his ears again to enjoy the way his eyes flutter and how he chases your touch so eagerly. Endeared, you coo, “do you have any idea how cute you are, Val?”
Before he can respond, you lean in and quickly press a kiss to his lips, catching him off guard. You giggle at the surprise on his face, but it’s short lived because he quickly twists onto his back with you in tow, pulling a shriek from your lips. He holds you tightly against his chest, smirking up at you with his golden, lidded gaze.
“If I'm cute, then that makes you the most adorable person to ever walk this earth.”
“It does not,” you argue, rolling your eyes.
“Does too,” he says.
“Says who?”
“Me, obviously.” His face is mere inches from yours, and you can feel the strong, steady beat of his heart pressed against yours. He closes the space between you easily, kissing you so softly you wonder how this same man is also a beast. His thumb caresses your cheekbone when you pull back, gazing at you with a look so tender it bleeds into longing. “And don’t you ever forget it.”
“You’re silly, Val,” you say softly, looking away bashfully. Valko turns your gaze back to his gently, wearing a serious expression.
“I mean it. Don’t you dare forget how much you mean to me. Even if this world decides to one day keep us apart, it won’t change a thing.”
You whisper his name, like you’re scared those words might actually come true if you speak too loudly. “I won’t,” you tell him, tucking your head under his chin as he holds you. “I promise.”
⟢ summary: this first year of marriage has not gone the way nanami expected at all. but maybe it’s alright. he’s with you after all. he always will be.
⟢ cw: angst, character death, takes place before/during shibuya arc, terminal illness, canon typical violence and gore
⟢ wc: 5.4k
⟢ a/n: this fic has been marinating in my drafts for a good while now and I’ve finally managed to finish it! happy reading :3 divider by @/cafekitsune
“I brought you something.”
The door to your room clicks shut softly behind your husband, a plastic bag in one hand, his blazer in the other. Your body feels heavy, weary, but you brighten at the sight of him, sitting up straighter in bed as he pulls up a chair to sit by you. He sets the bag down on the small table in front of you, mindful of the different tubes that connect to machines and bags of fluids that in turn connect to you.
“Please tell me it’s chocolate.”
Nanami chuckles as he sets down his things alongside a second bag, this one made of brown paper, sealed shut with a round sticker from his favourite bakery. “No chocolate this time, sorry. Here,” he says, peeling it open and revealing a muffin topped with chopped walnuts just for you. “Eat it while it’s still warm.”
Before he hands it to you, he peels down the paper and then delicately places it on the table so that you can break bits off and nibble at it. It’s not too sweet but it’s nutty and warm, and you hum as you break off little pieces and start to eat. It’s hard to eat a lot of things these days, but your husband always manages to find a treat that your stomach agrees with - these muffins are one of them. “What else did you bring?”
“Apples, tangerines, strawberries and plums.” He produces them from the plastic bag one by one as well as a knife and starts to cut the fruit into small, bitesize pieces for you to snack on. “How have you been feeling today?”
“Tired,” you hum, popping another morsel of muffin into your mouth. “I’ve been in and out all day. But I haven’t been sick or anything.”
“That’s good. I’ll speak to the doctor when I leave,” he murmurs as he peels an apple, a long ribbon of red curling off the piece of fruit. “See if we can get anything done about your treatment.”
“How about you? How’s work?” you ask conversationally, stifling a yawn as your eyes begin to droop. You’ve been awake since he texted to say that he would be on his way and it’s already started to take its toll on you. Simple things are no longer simple. What once came as easily as breathing, now takes a herculean effort, including keeping your eyes open for more than an hour.
He smiles, but it’s tight. “Work is work,” he tells you. “As shitty as usual.”
“What about all that business with the traitor?”
“Have you been talking to Gojo again?” he grumbles, slicing the apple thinly with a little more force than necessary.
“He came to visit yesterday,” you shrug, plucking a piece from the plate balancing on your blankets. “And before you start, I asked him to tell me what’s going on since you don’t seem to tell me anything.”
“Darling, there’s a reason for that. You don’t need to concern yourself with the jujutsu world-”
“I’m married to a man that’s part of that world, so I think you'll find that I do,” you counter easily. Even though you’re bed bound and unwell, there’s still a fire crackling inside you that can never be put out. Nanami supposes it’s his own fault for falling in love with someone who blazes so brightly.
“You need to focus on getting better.” He gets up to wash his hands in the little sink by the door, drying them on a couple of paper towels.
“I am. But you need to keep me in the loop or I’ll worry about you regardless.”
“Are you trying to guilt me?” he asks, raising his eyebrow as he sits back down again and takes your free hand in his, fiddling with the wedding band around your finger. It doesn’t quite fit as snugly as it should and the physical proof of the effects of your condition make his heart ache quietly.
“Yes, I am. So tell me everything, Ken.”
Reluctantly, he starts to talk. He tells you about the suspected mole who’s been leaking information, about how the school was infiltrated and how the students were attacked. “Something’s coming,” he says quietly once he’s finished. “I feel it in my bones.”
“Are you scared?” You sound exhausted, your words slow as you fight to keep your eyes open. Nanami stands, setting aside your half eaten snacks to pull your blanket up around your neck. He thumbs at your cheek gently, like you might shatter if he touches you any more firmly. Your skin is dull and dry, cheeks hollower than they used to be, He’ll never admit it aloud, but the answer to your question is yes - he is terrified.
The fear isn’t born from killing curses or injury or possibly losing his life, no. What Nanami fears is losing you. Seeing you like this each day, watching you slowly wither as the days grow colder, breaks his heart. The doctors simply offer him sympathetic looks when he asks about any improvements in your condition, if the treatment you’ve been receiving is working at all. He can’t bear the thought of you leaving, but it persists in his mind regardless.
But that’s his secret to keep. So he smiles, leans down, and kisses your forehead. “I’m not scared,” he lies. “It’s all part of the job. Besides, that’s what that white haired idiot is for.”
“Yay for Gojo,” you yawn and he snorts as you drift off to sleep once again, signalling that it’s time for him to head home himself.
The apartment is silent as he steps inside with a heavy sigh, flicking the light on as he eases off his shoes. His only companions are the soft thump of his socked feet along the hardwood floor and his own steady breaths. He drops his blazer on the couch and makes his way into the kitchen to fix himself a late dinner, hoping that the task of cooking will waft away some of his thoughts.
It works for a while. His knife rhythmically slices through each vegetable he traps firmly under his knuckled grip. The meat is next, becoming uniform ribbons that he tosses into a bowl to quickly marinate in a few seasonings. Hot oil pops and sizzles, creating a din in his ears and his mind quiets as he focuses on each step. He finds some semblance of comfort in familiarity, humming a little tune under his breath as he drifts from cooker to counter. The kitchen feels warmer, brighter even, as he plates up the fruits of his labour.
Nanami turns in the direction of the dining table, his mouth halfway open to speak when he catches himself and seals his lips shut.
The colour drains from the room, swirling down the kitchen sink as he sighs and shakes his head to himself, slowly taking his seat alone. His appetite has gone. It’s only through great effort that he manages to feed himself, each bite bland to him as he chews. Nanami has always been excellent in the kitchen - you always praise him every time he cooks for you. But what good is the skill and care he puts into each dish if you’re not able to share it with him?
“She’ll be home soon,” he murmurs to himself, as if speaking the words aloud will convince him. “Just wait a little while longer.”
After clearing up and quickly showering, Nanami finally crawls into bed, his eyes and limbs heavier than lead. The bed is comfortable, the way it always is - he saw to that when he insisted you buy only the best mattresses and pillows for the highest quality of sleep. The softness cradles his body, moulding to every line of his body as he stares up at nothing. But it doesn’t feel quite right. It's not as warm as he would like, not the way it is when you’re curled into his side, ghosting shapes into his ribs with your fingertips.
Though he’s exhausted, he’s unwilling to succumb to sleep yet. For when he does manage to drift off, his dreams will likely be filled with the sound of flatlining monitors and your weakening grip on his hand. In his waking life, Nanami knows that to not be the case - he knows you’re breathing deeply as you sleep in your hospital bed. But his subconscious has other ideas, manifesting his deepest fears into images that wrench his heart out of his chest and jerk him awake with a gasp after just a few hours of fitful rest.
Routine is what keeps the blond sorcerer going, the way it has since your diagnosis, and it continues to serve him over the next few days. Wake up, shower, shave, brush his teeth, eat breakfast and then head out on any missions he’s been assigned. When that’s done, he drops by a convenience store followed by the bakery on his way to visit you. He’ll sit with you until you fall asleep, run through the same questions with the doctors and then head home to eat and sleep and try to stave off the sense of impending doom rolling around his gut.
Each day is the same. Each day, there’s no change.
You’re stable, he’s coping, the sorcerers are waiting.
The clock ticks and another day is crossed off the calendar.
“Can you sit on the edge of the bed for me?” Nanami asks gently and you nod tiredly. He helps you shift so that your legs hang off the edge of the thin mattress. You waver a little as he moves tubes out of the way so that he can sit behind you, his warm, broad chest brushing against your spine, legs bracketing yours. He shuffles back a bit and reaches into the bag he brought with him, pulling out a brush.
Your hair is still damp after Nanami helped you wash it - you refuse to let the nurses bathe you, insisting that your husband be the one to do it, wanting to hold on to your last shreds of dignity. He’s always been more gentle and infinitely more comforting, helping you forget for a few moments that you’re in a hospital. For a while, you can both pretend that you’re at home and he’s helping you bathe because he likes to take care of you, not because you’re sick. You can pretend that you’re an ordinary husband and wife, two people in love, with no worries weighing down your shoulders as he shampoos your hair.
Just as delicately as he’d washed it, your husband begins to run the brush through the ends of your hair, slowly working his way up to untangle any snarls and knots. It’s gotten longer, hanging past your shoulders in thinning locks, lacking any of the lustre it held before you fell ill. And he’s tried to bring it back, the shine, the thickness, the strength in each strand. But it seems the curse eating away at your body is far greedier than he expected.
Ironic, that he would compare your sickness to a curse. It’s not the kind of curse he’s used to fighting. If it was, a quick slash at 7:3 would remove the problem. If it was, he could save you from it. If it was, then perhaps he wouldn’t feel so helpless. If it was a cursed spirit, then maybe he wouldn’t have to watch you wither away.
Shaking his head of his thoughts, he continues to brush your hair, the rhythm of each pass of the bristles calming him somewhat. “Would you like me to cut it?” he asks as he starts to work on your roots.
“Do you have scissors?”
“I’m not sure, let me have a look.” As he rifles through the bag, you hum to yourself.
“Is there any point in cutting it?”
“The ends have seen better days, so yes.”
A sad expression passes over your face that he can’t see as he tests the small pair of scissors he’s found with a couple of experimental snips. “But it’s all falling out.”
Nanami glances at the brush and frowns. Caught between the bristles are loose clumps of hair. He tugs them out, balls them up and tosses them in a nearby bin before returning to his task. “That’s no reason not to take care of it.”
“Ken, what’s the point? There probably won’t be anything left soon. You’re just wasting your time.”
“I don’t think it’s a waste of time,” he murmurs, parting your hair neatly down the middle.
“Really?” you scoff. “You can’t think of anything you’d rather be doing right now?”
He falls quiet, gathering your hair carefully down your back. He places a plastic bag in his lap to catch the hair that falls and then, he begins to cut it in a straight line. Snip, snip, snip, the sound of his scissors biting through your hair fills the silence. He brushes through it once he’s cut off the dead ends and begins to neaten up his handiwork. “There are a few things I would rather be doing right now, yes.” Your breath hitches but he continues. “I would much rather be packing your bags and taking you home with me. I would much rather cook for you at home and feed you a freshly made meal at our dining table. I would much rather bathe with you in our tub and sleep with you in our own bed. I would much rather come home to you, rather than visiting you here when my day is done.”
“If I could have it my way, you would be strong and healthy. But reality is not so kind. So yes, my darling, there are things I would rather do with you, but above all of that, I will always want to take care of you first. Wherever that may be.” With a final pass of his brush, he sets his tools down, gathers up the plastic bag and ties it off with a knot before setting that aside too.
Your shoulders tremble. Wordlessly, he wraps his arms around you and holds you close to his chest, his heart thumping strongly against your shoulder blade. He shushes you gently, rocking you from side to side. Weakened fingers cover his, colder than usual but still yours. He kisses your temple, once, twice and swallows his own sadness, for the sake of helping you through yours.
“You’ll be okay, my love,” he says softly, not completely believing the words himself but saying them anyway, hoping that maybe hearing them will soothe his own worries. “I’m here with you. No matter what happens.”
On the penultimate day of the month, Nanami has the day off, so today, he deviates from his routine a little. He visits the convenience store, the bakery and then - he goes to the florist. Upon entering the shop, the little bell above the door rings merrily, a floral, earthy scent permeating the air. It’s quiet in here, rows upon rows of flowers and greenery sitting in bright clusters that he observes carefully as he walks between the aisles.
One bouquet in particular captures his attention. It’s made up of tiny purple heliotropes that crowd together, nestled amongst full, white roses and fronds of green that tie it all together. Each flower has bloomed beautifully, the petals open and vulnerable, not yet kissed by decay. Carefully, he lifts it out of the bucket of water it sits in and runs his finger over a rose petal, silky soft against his skin. You’ll love them, he’s sure of it.
He offers a small smile to the elderly woman behind the counter as she wraps up his purchase in paper and takes his payment. “You have a good eye,” she says conversationally.
“Thank you,” Nanami says politely. “They’re for my wife.”
“Ah, how lovely! How long have you been married?”
“It’s been a little over a year,” he answers, carefully taking the bouquet from her. “Though it doesn’t feel like any time has passed at all.”
She smiles knowingly. “The years will pass you by in the blink of an eye and you’ll be old and wrinkled like me before you know it. You’re young. Savour it.” Nanami is about to quip back that he’s not young at all, that he’s a fully fledged adult, but he holds his tongue and nods, bidding her goodbye.
When he arrives at the hospital and approaches your room, there’s a nurse leaving it. He nods in greeting and she smiles. “She’s been talking about you all day.”
Nanami’s chest warms a little as he enters your room. You’re sitting up in bed, sunlight streaming in through the windows and casting a golden halo around you that makes you appear angelic. Your face brightens as he approaches, a happy smile lighting up your features and his heart does a little flip.
“Ken! You’re here!” you crow. Even though you still look tired, you appear to be full of energy today. He can’t help himself, chuckling softly as he leans in to kiss your lips. You cradle his face in your hands, keeping him from parting from you too soon. Your lips are dry and slightly chapped, the bitter taste of medicine echoing on your tongue but he doesn’t mind, happy to indulge in your kisses for a little while longer. “You’re full of energy today. What on earth have they been feeding you?” he asks, amused.
“Nothing special,” you shrug, settling back against your pillows as he takes his usual seat. You hear a rustle and peek at his hand. “Are those flowers?”
“They are,” he nods, offering you the bouquet. You gasp softly as he shows you the blossoms he bought for you, the colours vivid and alive against the brown paper they’re nestled in.
“For me?”
He rolls his eyes good naturedly. “No, for the little old lady next door.” You pout and he pinches your cheek lightly. “Who else would I buy them for?”
“I don’t know, you do have an affinity for little old ladies,” you giggle, raising them to your nose to inhale their fragrance.
“Then does that make you a little old lady too?” You glare at him playfully and he stands, holding his hand out to you for the flowers. “Let me put them in the vase.”
As he rolls up his sleeves and busies himself with changing out the dead flowers for the fresh ones, a grunt sounds behind him, accompanied by the shuffle of slippered footsteps and the squeak of wheels. He turns and his eyes almost bug out of his skull when he catches you trying to walk over to him, shakier than a newborn giraffe as you cling to the pole of your IV. You’re only a couple of steps away, but he still quickly strides towards you when you wobble precariously, wrapping one arm around your waist and steadying you with the other.
“Whoops, guess my legs aren’t what they should be,” you laugh sheepishly as he holds you upright.
“If you wanted to get out of bed, you should’ve asked me,” he scolds lightly.
“I know, I just-” you frown slightly and glance at the window, at the sun that’s beginning to descend and burn the horizon. “-I wanted to watch the sunset. I can’t see it from my bed and it’s been raining for the past few days and…”
Nanami relaxes and leads you over to the window, helping you into the chair there. He keeps a loose arm around your shoulders, letting you huddle into his side for warmth. Neither of you utter a word as you watch the sun dip lower and lower, draining the sky of candyfloss pinks, smouldering oranges and clear blues. It’s so serene, watching the city plunge slowly into darkness before artificial lights flicker on to keep the world awake.
“Kento?”
“Hm?”
“I love you,” you tell him quietly, covering his hand with yours. “I’m so lucky to have someone like you by my side. Thank you for taking care of me.”
“Is that not what marriage is?” he murmurs, dropping a kiss into your hair. You look up at him and smile.
“Yeah. Yeah it is.”
“When you’re better, let’s go somewhere.” You look up at him, brows drawn together.
“Where do you have in mind?”.
“Somewhere warm and relaxing. Far from here.”
“Like a beach?”
“Mm. In a country we’ve never seen before.”
You sigh and rest your cheek on his stomach. “There’s so many places to choose from, Ken. Where would we even start?”
“How about the place we were supposed to go to on our honeymoon?”
The plans you’d had back then had fallen through because of appointments and tests with various doctors. As such, the two of you had agreed not to spend your first week as a married couple abroad, choosing instead to go to an onsen in Oita for a few days.
“Kuantan,” you murmur with a small smile. “I bet the sunsets there are even more beautiful than this one.”
⋆｡‧˚ʚ ❀ ɞ˚‧｡⋆
On the night of Halloween, Nanami is calm.
Frustration does him no favours in the face of such an incident. Frustration is foggy and skews judgement, which is something he can’t afford, especially not right now, when he finds Ijichi prone on the floor, with blood bubbling from a wound in his back. It’s hard though, not to feel that way. Ijichi’s blazer is soaked with it, crimson dripping in fat droplets onto the concrete. A flash of grief strikes through Nanami like hot iron, a face from his youth appearing in his mind's eye as he hoists the unconscious man onto his back, setting out on the streets of Shibuya to find a safe place to deposit him. It’s a miracle that his heart still beats, albeit weakly, though he can’t be sure how long that will last - if he’ll join the ranks of the other supervisors they’ve lost tonight.
As he gently puts Ijichi down, his phone vibrates in his pocket. His brow furrows in confusion - that shouldn’t be possible within a veil. He surmises that there must be a weakness in the curtain around here and somehow, whoever is calling him has managed to get through. Taking his phone out, he glances at the contact name before answering - it’s the hospital. There’s a harsh crackling noise that makes him wince as he puts it against his ear.
“‘rom…. -pital.. -speak wi-.... Na… -mi.” He strains his ears, trying to decipher the snatches of broken words.
“Yes, this is Nanami speaking,” he says slowly when the static dies down. There’s more crackling and popping as a distorted voice warbles through the speaker in answer. “Is everything alright?”
Nanami takes a shaky breath as his brain fills in the gaps. His heart aches like it’s being squeezed in a tight fist, until blood leaks over the fingers of whichever sick being chose this for you. Dread rolls through his stomach, his phone clutched tightly in his hand.
He has two options here. He can abandon his fellow sorcerers to go and be with you, or he can help them win this fight more quickly and then go to you. If he delays going to the hospital, he won’t know what condition you’re in until this fight is over. But abandoning the other sorcerers means abandoning the students too, and that doesn’t sit right in his chest either. Logically, even if he were to go to you, what help could he offer? What use would he be just sitting around and waiting whilst you’re undergoing, what he deduced to be, surgery? That’s what you’d say to him, at least. ‘You’re not a doctor Ken, just let them do their job and you do yours.’
His job. What a fucking job it is, he thinks, staring at the drying blood that clings to his palms. He should be with you, regardless of his job. Another crash rings out and he inhales deeply, closing his eyes for a moment and saying a silent prayer to whichever deity is listening. His jaw clenches and he adjusts his glasses. Then, he heads towards the commotion.
The quicker he ends this, the quicker he can get back to you.
⋆｡‧˚ʚ ❀ ɞ˚‧｡⋆
Half of Nanami’s body burns. It’s nothing like the superficial burns he’s sustained in the kitchen over the years. It’s different. Like there are flames and sparks continuously licking at his skin, eating away at it with the heat from a thousand suns. He can’t hear the crackle and pop of fire, though that might have more to do with the fact that he can no longer hear from his left ear. The smell of burned flesh hangs around him as he walks, acrid and unpleasant. An image flickers through his mind, of you wrinkling your nose and poking at a burnt steak in a pan, your first attempt at a date night at home. Nanami smiles crookedly despite himself, the right corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
It hurts. Everything hurts. It hurts to breathe and it hurts to blink. Moving hurts but he continues on anyway. Thinking of you hurts the most. But at the same time, thinking of you soothes him. Holding the image of your pretty face in his mind’s eye like he’s cradling a picture frame, helps the physical pain lessen. But the aching in his heart is constant as it beats tiredly.
Distantly, he hears the sound of a telephone ringing, the shrill sound bouncing off the walls of the corridor. It’s echoed by a vibration in his trouser pocket. Nanami pauses at the top of the stairs that lead down into the station, reaching for his phone with his unblemished hand, answering it without checking the contact name - he can make a fairly good guess as to who is on the other end.
“Hello?” he murmurs.
This time, the line is clear. “Nanami-san? Are you able to come to the hospital? We need to speak with you. It’s urgent.”
“I can’t, he sighs.
“But-”
“It’s alright,” he says quietly. “Tell me.”
There’s a stretch of silence on the other end. “We did everything we could but her body was so weak and-” They take a steadying breath. “Your wife didn’t make it through surgery. We’re sorry for your-”
Beeeep.
Malaysia.
His phone clatters to the ground, right there at the top of the stairs as he begins his descent.
You wanted to go to the beach, didn’t you? Somewhere warm and relaxing. Where water laps at your feet and the air feels like the kiss of a lover.
Each step he takes echoes throughout the station, his Oxfords tapping loudly against linoleum. Something wet drips down his right cheek, clouding his vision. He continues on blindly.
Perhaps if you really like it, the two of you could move there. That would be nice. He could build a house for you by the beach and the two of you could spend each day soaking up the sun and cooling down in the water. He could finally get through the stack of books he’s accumulated. Maybe you could read them together.
His remaining eye blinks and he can see a swarm of disfigured humans. The grip on his blunt blade tightens a little.
You’ll take his hand in yours. You always do. Maybe tug him down the shore with a giggle, the sea breeze combing through your hair and ruffling your summer dress. He’d follow. He always does. A smile on his face as he leads you in a crude dance.
Muscle memory guides his movements. One, two, three, four. He cuts through the warped beings that press in on him from all sides.
Sea water soaks his trousers and the hem of your dress. He’s breathless with joy and you sparkle brighter than the sun. He pulls you in, presses you against his chest and sways gently with you.
Blood splatters his already ruined trousers, mingling with his own and matting his hair. It drips down his chest and his hands are slick with the stuff, causing his hold on his cursed tool to waver.
The water is warm and your lips are even warmer as he dips you down to kiss you. The sun burns at his back as it starts to set and you smile, your skin kissed by gold as you look past him at the sunset.
“Kento,” you whisper sweetly, reaching up to wipe at his cheeks. Your palm settles over his heart. “Don’t cry, my love. I’m right here.”
“You’re here?”
“I’ve been here the whole time.” That grating, thin voice that belongs to Mahito replies smugly. “What do you say, old friend? Shall we chat?”
Old friend? Nanami blinks and your image melts away. He’s still in Shibuya, staring down at blood stained linoleum. A pair of shoes enters his line of vision, a different ghost replacing yours. One that’s a little more blurred around the edges, the memory of his face eroded by the sands of time - Nanami recognises Haibara all the same.
He wonders. If his reason for leaving, returning, staying was good enough, if not a little vague. He looks at his friend, waiting for something. Comfort or wisdom or something. The fuzzy image of Haibara is silent, pointing behind him expressionlessly, and Nanami turns to see Yuuji rushing into the station, a look of panic crossing his youthful features as the scene before him registers. The boy's lips tremble, shaping around his name. Despite the blood soaking his clothes and hair, Yuuji looks far younger than his fifteen years. A lost child, desperate for an adult’s guidance.
Nanami is tired. So very tired. He’s reached the end of the line. He did what he could. What should he say? What can he offer to a boy like Yuuji, burdened by far more than his shoulders should ever have to bear. To add to that would be tantamount to cursing him. He can’t do that. It’s not right.
“Kento,” comes your soft whisper. The smell of brine and jasmine is faint but it fills his nostrils. “It’s okay.”
He smiles at Yuuji. He hopes it’s reassuring. That he understands his words.
“You’ve got it from here.”
⋆｡‧˚ʚ ❀ ɞ˚‧｡⋆
Streaks of peach and tangerine weave around wisps of blossom and cotton. Something soft but grainy cradles his body, sinking into his hair and tickling the nape of his neck. His left hand is occupied, fingers filling in the gaps between his own, a thumb stroking rhythmically over his knuckles. Nanami inhales slowly, his eyes fluttering closed for a breath as the waning rays of sunshine bathe his skin in warmth. The scent of brine and jasmine is stronger here.
“We’re here.”
“I did say we’d visit Malaysia,” he says. You snort beside him and squeeze his hand. “I just didn’t expect it to be quite so soon.”
“Hey, we got here for free. I call that a win.” Nanami chuckles, his head lolling to the side so that he can look at you. You’re just as beautiful as you’ve always been, like a freshly bloomed rose, every petal perfect, soft and bright. Reaching out, he curls his fingers over your cheek, pleased to find it plump and healthy.
“It wasn’t free, darling. The cost was life.”
“Life was overrated, anyway,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Isn’t this place so much nicer?”
It’s hard to disagree when you say it like that. Perhaps everything that happened was a blessing in disguise.
“It is.”
“See?” You sit up, laughing as you pull him up with you. You point at the horizon, at the sun dipping beneath the sea. “Isn’t it perfect?”
He responds with an affirmative hum, wrapping his arm around your waist whilst your head falls onto his shoulder. Nanami kisses your temple, lingering and tender. “I’m sorry,” he says after a few moments. You shake your head and smile gently.
“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I could’ve chosen differently.”
“You could have,” you agree. “But then you probably wouldn’t be sitting here with me.”
“That’s true.”
“I could never blame you, my love.”
“I know.”
Even as the minutes tick by, the sun never gets any lower than it is right now. It remains as it is, the way that you and your husband remain as you were. Constant, unchanging, eternal. Blessing or curse - it’s best not to say.
⟢ a/n: just a lil warmup drabble i wrote a while ago
A deep hum cuts through the chatter of the show you’re watching, accompanied by the rustle of paper and the scratch of pencil. Your eyes flit to the side to glance at your husband, brow furrowed in concentration, glasses resting on the tip of his nose as he pores over a crossword puzzle.
The puzzle book was a silly little gift you’d gotten for him for a secret gift exchange you’d done with your friends at a dinner party. You didn’t think he’d actually use it. But he pulls it out in the evenings whilst you curl up against his side, finding something calming in working through the different activities. Sometimes you do them together, but mostly, you leave him to his quiet time.
It’s nice. Spending time together without the burden of enduring something the other might not like. Some might call it odd, but you indulge each other in other ways and to the both of you, having the time to do your own thing is important. You just happen to like doing those things side by side.
There’s also the perk of getting to see his focused expression crinkle when he’s thinking, then smooth out once he’s solved something. That, coupled with the fact that he looks as cosy as can be in checkered pyjamas and his ‘old man slippers’ (as you fondly call them), makes for a very endearing sight indeed.
“Have I told you lately how cute you are?” you ask him as you shift to rest your head on his shoulder. He looks at you over his glasses, forehead still creased.
“Hm?”
“Kentooo,” you coo, reaching out to poke the tip of his nose. “You. Are. A. Cutie.”
He chuckles, half confused, half amused by your singsong teasing. “And what’s brought this on?”
“Nothin’,” you shrug playfully. “I just think you’re adorable, sitting there in your pyjamas doing your little puzzles.”
“Ah,” he says, a soft pink tingeing the shells of his ears. “This is cute to you?”
“Mhmmm.”
“I see,” he says, softly closing the book and making space for you to come closer. You shuffle up to him, giggle when he winds an arm around your waist and pulls you in, planting a sweet kiss on your lips. “Cheeky.”
“You love it.”
“Unfortunately,” he sighs, a small smile curling at his lips. “I also think it’s very cute.”
“Yeah?”
“You are,” he says with a small nod. He cups your cheek and it’s so warm you can’t help but nuzzle into his gentle touch. “In every way. You may have me beat in that regard.”
You pout at him, feeling bashful under the weight of his loving gaze. Your insides feel all gooey and melted down, like someone has drizzled caramel into your heart. The way he looks at you, steady and lingering, makes you want to hide. So you do, tucking your face into his neck with a whine. “I hate when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Flip my compliments back onto me. It’s not fair!”
“It’s not?” Nanami’s lips twitch with the threat of a grin, but the sparkle in his eyes gives his amusement away. He leans in, breath and lips brushing your ear together to make you shiver. “Don’t play the game if you’re not prepared to lose, darling.”
there’s just something so exceptional about knowing that you can show up to a person in any form when you’re feeling bad or you’re feeling good or awkward or confident or sad or happy or anything and they’ll love every bit of you just the same. they’ll love you through the lows and soar with you through the highs. they’re on your team win or lose.
you pick up your phone on the second buzz, putting it on speaker as you continue to rub pigment on your cheeks, "sunarin? you almost here?"
suna rintaro takes a second to respond, "uhh, yes," he sounds distracted, "i'll be leaving in a sex-, er- sec, ..in a second"
you hum. he's acting weird but no weirder than the normal suna rintaro would, you think
" 'm wearing the top that makes my boobs look good," you say absentmindedly, brushing shimmery powder on your collarbones, the angle of your shoulders, and the tops of your breasts, "not sure if i should wear heels or not," you continue, "i know we're just meeting a few of the guys from inarizaki, but-"
you hear suna groan, deep voice reverberating through the speakers. it takes him a moment to speak, "if ya do heels, who's gonna carry you when ya start complainin' about yer feet hurting,"
you smile, "my best friend, suna rintaro, of course," you say, sweet lilt in your voice as you finish with the gloss on your lips
you hear suna shuffling on the other side of the line, some more grunting through the phone, followed by some cut-off mumbles of ‘best friend’
"what are you doing?" you finally ask, satisfied with how your makeup and outfit turned out and now fully focusing on your conversation with the man on the phone
you pout, hoping he can hear your expression by your puckered lips, "are you working out or something?"
suna laughs, "hah," then you hear another grunt from the end of the line, "somethin' like that," he says
"hmm," you tap the screen of your cellphone to check the time,
"rintaro," you say, realizing you're supposed to meet your friends in fifteen minutes and it takes suna exactly that time to drive over to pick you up, "you better come quick, don't leave me high and dry over here,"
you think you almost hear suna whine on the other side. his voice is gruff and he breathes shakily, "don't worry, baby, i'm almost there. y'know i'd never keep ya waitin'"
you suck in a breath, teeth impulsively digging into the plush of your bottom lip at the sweetness he just called you; then you gasp, quickly reapplying more gloss over the area. suna hears you through the phone, chuckling lightly
"yer gonna ruin my makeup," you say, trying to clear your throat after being caught of guard like that. you don't tell him that you spent hours on it, hoping he likes it
a sigh on the other end of the line brings you back from the thoughts about your best friend you've avidly been ignoring.
suna calls your name, you think maybe its static the way he stutters around the first syllable of it, "can you say my name one more time?" he pleads, voice an octave higher
"rin-ta-ro ?"
"f-fuuck"
the line goes dead on the other side. you get a text from him a few minutes after,
cumming
coming* haha
—
suna rintaro looks down at the mess between his thighs, sighing. he wishes the mess was on your pretty tits instead, maybe some of it on your face, too, ruining your makeup, just like you told him not to do.
you'd forgive him, he's sure
especially if he were to fuck another load into your pretty pussy and finger it deeper into you right after
