Nanami Kento hurt/comfort
Nanami Kento considered himself a controlled man—bound by self-discipline and logic. This control quickly lost its order the moment you became someone in his life. Nanami was a controlled man—but never when it came to you.
So curse him for being angry and irritated when he found out you went to a party he explicitly asked you not to go to. He had his reasons, but sharing them felt too childish, too insecure, so he never did. But now, after having picked you up, both of you sulking in the car, it felt too absurd not to say anything.
He felt frustrated, that frustration evident by the way he didn’t say anything, by the way his glare was fixed on a non-existent threat.
“I explicitly said no, didn’t I?” His voice cuts through the AC blasting in the car. “Why would you go?” His anger was palpable.
“Because you never gave me a good reason not to go! I didn’t know he would be there, and I didn’t know he would approach me like that.” You explain, frustrated yourself.
It wasn’t your fault that someone flirted with you—even if it was someone Kento despised. Because after all, how were you supposed to know?
His grip on the steering wheel tightens, he lets out an irritated breath.
“I never need to give you a reason; when I say no, it means no. You listen to me.” He replies, firmly.
Your face falls and your heart hurts. This wasn’t your Kento and this certainly wasn’t the man you felt safe around.
“No, Ken. You don’t tell me what to do and expect me to go along with it blindly.” You turn around to look at him, exasperated. “I’m not your pet.”
He shoots you a reciprocal look.
“You think I don’t know that?” He replies, his voice restrained. “I’m fully aware of our dynamic. You’re not a pet, but you are my wife. Your safety and well-being are my responsibility.”
You almost scoff. Screw his responsibility if it meant he needed to hurt you doing it. You bite your lip, afraid of what you would say if given the chance and you look at him like you don’t know him. You turn away, looking out the window. The silence takes its toll again.
He noticed the way you avoided his gaze, the way you shut down on yourself. But there was nothing more he could say. The quiet was thick and heavy.
When you finally arrive at home, he looks at you and his expression softens, almost as if he was remembering who you were to him.
You get out of the car, making your way inside the house and to your bedroom to change and get ready for bed. He waits for you. He waits on the bed, ruminating in the ruins of what he had said.
Even if he doesn’t find the words to fix this tonight, he wanted you next to him. Because regardless of what you think of him at the moment, your safety was constantly on his mind.
You come out of the bathroom and start heading towards the bedroom door.
He furrows his eyebrows, watching you leave. “Where are you going?” He questions.
“I’m going to watch a movie.” Meaning, you were going to sleep in the living room, away from him and he lets you go.
After a while, it becomes ridiculous and he gets up to check on you, unable to sleep without you there. He notices you on the couch, your hands tucked under your chin, and the blanket barely covering anything. He sighs and walks towards the couch, crouching in front of you.
He brushes your hair out of your face and looks at you for a moment, feeling tremendously more guilty than he did 2 hours ago. Eventually, he slips his hands under you and lifts you in his arms, carrying you back to the bedroom.
You stir in his arms and your eyes flutter open.
He speaks softly, a contrast from earlier, “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”
You were sleepy, exhausted, and your eyes tear up at his soft voice.
He looks down at you, his brows furrowed once more. His heart aches at the sight. His face relaxes as he sets you down on the bed before pulling you into his chest. His hand caresses your cheek, hoping the tears never trickle down your face.
You’re looking up at him, “You’re so mean.” You say as your tears cascade down your cheeks. His hands make fast work to wipe them away. He looked torn.
His heart sinks at the comment and the guilt washes over him again. He cups your face with both hands, his touch gentle as he looks at you.
“I’m sorry.” He whispers. He looks at your eyes, “Please don’t cry.”
You cover your face in his chest and breathe in stuttered breaths, heaving. “You’re so mean, Ken. I hate the way you look at me when you’re angry. You say cruel things and you don’t listen to me.” Your voice breaks.
He holds you closer, pulling you in more.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, my love.” He adds, his voice filled with remorse. “I don’t mean the cruel things I say. I never meant to hurt you. I want to protect you but I’m not doing it right.” He kisses the top of your head, wanting you to feel safe again.
“I’m not a child, you know.” You say as you try to control your crying. Your fingers fiddle with his shirt.
He looks at you for a moment and he sighs softly.
“I know you’re not a child. I know you’re strong, and that you can take care of yourself. But the thought of you getting hurt or being in danger scares me. The thought of you being around those people scares me. You’re my wife, the person I love the most, I want to protect you from any harm, even if it hurts.”
You’re quiet for a second. “I know.” You whisper.
He stops the movement of your fingers, gently cupping your hands. He then cups your face, brushing away any tears. “I can’t help it. I can’t help wanting to keep you safe, wanting to prevent you from getting in any sort of trouble. I know it makes you sad, darling. But I love you too much not to protect you.”
Your lip wobbles and you turn your face away, unable to be sure that you wouldn’t cry. “I promise I’d never put myself in danger on purpose. I just wanted to go to the stupid party because I wanted to wear a pretty dress and it was stupid but I just wanted to see everyone.”
His expression softens at your words.
“I know you wouldn’t, sweetheart. It’s just knowing that you’re out there without me that worries me and I act irrationally. And the thought of other men looking at you makes me-” He pauses, not wanting to continue. But it was evident: he was jealous, protective. “I can never think straight when it comes to you.”
“I’m only ever yours and you’re only ever mine.” You speak, looking at him again, wanting him to know that it would never be anyone but him.
He gazes into your eyes, his expression filled with so much love, it makes you want to drown in it. He leans closer, his hand on your chin tilting your head up.
“Only yours.” He whispers, his voice low and deep. He leans down further and captures your lips with his own.
He pulls away, leaving almost no space between the two of you. “And you can always wear your little dresses for me.” He adds, brushing his thumbs across your eyebrows.
You smile, a soft chuckle leaving your lips, and his face softens. Then and there, he promised himself he would never be a reason you couldn’t look at him like that again.
