taking care of tired and overworked toji fushiguro
toji came home so quietly you almost didn’t hear the door.
he normally has this heavy, impossible-to-ignore presence. boots thudding, keys clattering, that exhausted sigh he always lets out as soon as he’s inside. but tonight it’s different. tonight he moves like someone carrying the whole world on his shoulders.
you peek out from the bedroom, and he’s just standing there in the entryway, head bowed, hair messy, clothes torn in a few places, and you swear he looks a little lost. like the weight of the day didn’t just drain him. it hollowed him out.
“ji?” your voice is soft.
his head lifts immediately.
and god. the look in his eyes. tired. worn. dull around the edges. but they brighten the second he sees you, like your face flips a switch inside him he can’t control.
“hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, but it barely sounds like him. like he’s speaking through layers of exhaustion.
you walk to him slowly, gently, as if he might break if you’re too sudden. he doesn’t move. he just watches you with that same tired, aching softness.
you touch his cheek. he closes his eyes. not dramatically. just like he’s finally safe enough to let himself rest for two seconds.
“rough day?” you whisper.
a humorless huff leaves him. “somethin’ like that.”
you slide your fingers down to his hand and tug. “come on. let me take care of you.”
he doesn’t protest. he just follows, heavy steps dragging, shoulders sagging. you guide him to the bathroom, sit him on the edge of the tub, and start filling it with warm water.
toji watches you with that same unreadable expression. the one he gets only when you’re soft with him. like he doesn’t understand how someone could be gentle to him without wanting something in return.
you kneel in front of him and start undoing the buckles on his gear. he doesn’t stop you. doesn’t tease you. doesn’t say anything. his hands just fall limply onto his thighs.
you help him out of his shirt, peeling it off his tired arms. his muscles, usually firm and held tight with tension, look different tonight. heavier, weighed down, almost trembling from fatigue.
he whispers your name. not loud. not needy. just a soft, quiet thing that sounds like gratitude.
“i’m here,” you tell him, brushing your thumb over a scar on his shoulder. “always.”
when the bath is ready, he sinks into it with a low groan. the kind that vibrates all the way through his chest. you sit behind him on a little stool and start washing his hair, fingers massaging gently into his scalp.
toji actually leans back into your hands. fully. trusting you with the vulnerable parts of him.
“feels good…” he mutters, voice so low it nearly melts into the steam. “real good.”
you run warm water over his hair, letting it cascade down his neck and shoulders. every time your fingers drag through his hair, he exhales, long and shaky, like he’s releasing tension he didn’t realize he’d been holding onto for years.
you soap his shoulders next, slow and delicate, tracing along every scar, every knot of muscle. he shivers a little when your palms spread over his chest.
“you don’t gotta do all this,” he murmurs, but it’s weak. like he’s saying it because he thinks he should, not because he wants you to stop.
“i want to,” you whisper. “let me.”
his breath stutters. not from the water. not from the steam. from the softness.
you rinse him, cupping warm water in your hands and pouring it over him again and again. toji’s eyes flutter shut. he looks peaceful in a way he never lets anyone see. entirely undone by simple gentle touch.
after a while, he leans forward, elbows on his knees, head hanging.
“no one’s ever-” he pauses, voice rough. “-taken care of me like this.”
your heart aches. you press a kiss to the back of his shoulder.
“get used to it,” you tell him softly. “you deserve it.”
he freezes. then he turns his head just enough to look at you, eyes glassy in the candlelight.
“i really fuckin’ love you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. as if the words physically hurt him but he needs you to know.
your hands slide around him from behind, hugging him gently as warm water ripples around his skin.
“i love you too,” you murmur into his hair, fingers combing through it again. “let me keep loving you.”
toji breathes out, slow, shaky, surrendering, and for the first time all night, the weight on his shoulders finally slips into the water and disappears. and he lets you carry the rest.
