Has it been a week? You suppose it has been– the days blend together when you’re struggling to stay afloat. 

“Why aren’t you in Italy?” You ask. His presence is almost a mirage. Have you forgotten to take your medicine in the whipping passage of time? 

“I booked a flight to see you.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I haven’t heard from you. You haven’t texted back, you haven’t called, you haven’t updated your Instagram story. I’m worried about you.” 

You have to bite your bottom lip because you can feel it start to tremble. Still, your chin wobbles a bit. 

“You came all the way here to check in on me?” You ask, voice quiet and meek. 

Shouei nods. “And I took care of the spider by the stairwell.” 

“Really?” Tears well up in your eyes. 

“Yeah, he’s down in the bushes now,” Shouei says, gesturing towards the parking lot of your apartment complex. “Can I come in?” 

You shake your head. It’s not that you don’t want him in, it’s because he can’t come in. The place is a mess and you know how Shouei feels about messes. You’ve been using a dirty cutting board to slice up the store-bought pre-cooked chicken for the past however many days. Onions, too. And strawberries. You rinse the knife off between uses. You don’t remember the last time you cleaned out the litter box. When you made your bed. There’s a pile of now-wrinkled clean laundry on it that you’ve been sleeping next to. 

“It’s really bad,” you say. Glasses riddle your coffee table with straws stuck to the bottom remnants of morning coffee. Dishes sit unwashed in your sink, there are a few clean bowls in the dishwasher. 

“I know,” Shouei says gently. “Let me in, baby.” 

“It’s so bad,” you repeat, voice thick. 

“I’m not here to judge,” Shouei assures you. 

Pressing your lips together, you nod. You slowly move back from the door, and welcome Shouei into your apartment. 

He dips down first, however, to grab a few grocery bags. Reusable ones, ones that look brand new. He sets them just inside your door to the left, by where your shoes are. Then, stepping into the threshold, he wraps one big arm around your shoulders and pulls you in close for a hug. The other arm quickly circles around your waist, and you can’t go anywhere but into him. 

“My cats–” you begin to say, but he’s already closing the door with his foot. When you don’t have anything to further add, so your body relaxes for you against Shouei’s broad form. 

And then it’s tears. You press into his chest and his other arm wraps around you. His cologne and deodorant and aftershave and soap runs over you like a waterfall. Each inhale brings comfort and more tears— he’s here. His shirt dampens with them. And he rubs your back and rocks you side to side through it, cheek on the top of your head. 

“Gonna make it all better, baby,” he promises, voice water over rough stone.

Tiring yourself out is easy. You come to a finish with a sigh, a few more tears, and then embarrassment. Hiding your face in his chest, you can’t bear to make eye contact with him as you mumble out: 

“Please don’t break up with me.” 

“Not doing that,” Shouei says into the top of your head before leaving a kiss there. “I’m here to help.” 

Of course he wouldn’t. To buy a ticket on such short notice, to show up with open arms— of course he wouldn’t. 

When you pull away, Shouei moves some of your hair away from your face. He cups you, delicately, thumbs on your cheeks. You get a fresh wave of his cologne when he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Let me start with giving you somewhere nice to sit. Where do you want to be?” He asks. 

“On my couch,” you murmur. “My bed is too messy.” 

With a straight expression, Shouei sets forth tidying. He removes all the cups from the coffee table, he folds the throw blankets, folds your weighted blanket like it’s nothing. You watch, standing to the side and playing with the fat of your lip. 

He straightens up the books on the coffee table and removes the opened, half eaten bag of chips. 

“You still eating these?” He asks. 

You shake your head. He throws them away. He throws a lot away, actually. The bag of chips, the candy wrappers, the soda cans. His eyes land on the way there’s a big sticker placed over the nutrition label of the can, but he doesn’t say anything. 

He fluffs the pillows on your couch, including the stuffed animal you use as a pillow, then goes over to his grocery bags and pulls out a tub of Clorox wipes. He wipes down the coffee table and the end tables, reaching behind them to grab a can that one of your cats must have knocked over. He even gives the remote a wipe down.  

“Have a seat, baby,” Shouei says, throwing away the wipe. 

“That took you so little time,” you say, a little embarrassed. 

Shouei shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. I’m happy to do it.” 

You watch as he pulls out another cleaner and some paper towels. As he wipes down the TV, taking months of dust off it. He’s also sure to get the table, with all the cat hair. All you can do is rub your hands over your face. 

“Hey,” Shouei says, coming over to you. He places a hand on your shoulder, slowly moving it down your arm in a firm, reassuring pass. “Have a seat. It’s okay.” 

“But there’s so much to do,” you pout. 

“And it’s nothing you have to worry about now.” 

He leads you over to the couch, to your side of it. Unfolding a throw blanket, he drapes it over you and hands you the remote to the TV. 

“Like I’m not even here, okay?” There’s so much assurance in his tone, trying to mitigate your embarrassment. 

“Can I have the weighted blanket too?” You request, slipping to lay down. 

Shouei nods and drapes the heavy fabric over you, and you relax under it almost immediately. 

Then he sets about the rest of your space. He starts a load of laundry with your stripped bedsheets, putting your only other set on. You don’t enjoy these as much, they’re jersey instead of linen, but they’ll manage for now. He collects all the glasses out of your room, pleased that it seems the worst of your depression has at least hit you in the living areas. 

When he emerges back into the kitchen, you’ve got the TV on with reruns of your favorite reality show. Shouei grabs one of his bags, pulling out a few of the snacks he had bought you. He finds the stash of black Sharpies you keep in the kitchen and scribbles out the calories on the bags. The snacks find a home dished out onto a little plate: dark chocolate covered pretzels, apple slices with a little package of caramel, and lemon Oreos. 

He comes back to the living room and sets the tray on the table, along with a glass of water. Crouching next to you, and tucks some of your hair behind your ear. 

“Doing okay?” He asks quietly. 

You nod, hand slipping out from under the blankets to hold his wrist. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” you admit. 

“I wasn’t lying when I said I was serious about you,” he says. 

Sighing, you nod and nuzzle your head further into your pillow. Shouei leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek. 

“I’ll be quiet until I have to vacuum,” Shouei promises. His tone urges you to fall into the slumber of a nap. That would be so nice… the blanket is so heavy and Shouei is so close… 

When you wake, it’s to Shouei scooping you up off the couch. You blink awake as you’re nestled against his chest. He always lifts you like you weigh nothing. 

“Just moving you to your bed,” Shouei murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “‘M gonna vacuum.” 

“Will you bring me my cats?” You ask. 

“If I can find them,” Shouei says. He sets you on your bed, cupping your face in one big, broad hand, “You know they’ll find their way to you. Once they realize you’re in their favorite spot.” 

Your smile is a little watery. “And then will you come join us?” 

Shouei nods, though he has other plans. Ordering in food, probably sushi, getting you to take a shower or a bath, going for a walk around the apartment complex. 

He presses another kiss to your forehead before heading back out to the living room. There’s a bit of commotion as he gets out the vacuum, knocking it against the wall as he wrestles with the long nozzle of it and his broad frame in the tight hallway. 

You lay there, awake, scrolling on your phone. Video and video pop up and you don’t watch them through all the way, no, being alone with your thoughts is too much to manage. The constant beginnings of songs or greetings or directives drowns out the sound of the vacuum. 

Vacuuming takes a while. You have two cats in a small space— hair piles up. Sinks into the rugs. It takes multiple passes over the same spots to suck up all the hair. Shouei should just get a cleaner to come back twice a week for you, there’s no reason you need to be living like this. 

Stupid, he should have gotten you one a long time ago. Too little too late. 

He empties the vacuum for the nth time, finally pleased with the lingering result. Pleased, he heads into your bedroom, sighing softly through his nose at the sight of you glued to your phone. He remembers the summer you met, where when he would take you out and leave to go to the restroom, he’d come back to the table to see you on your ereader, phone forgotten. 

He comes over to the side of your bed, gently tucking some of your hair behind your ear. 

You put your phone down for him. The same video plays on loop. 

“Just coming to check on you,” Shouei says softly. “How are you doing?” 

You hum, shrugging. 

“Do you want to take a bath? I’ll blow dry your hair for you when we’re done,” he suggests. 

“My bathroom is a mess,” you mumble. “I don’t want to sit in my tub.” 

“I’ll clean it,” Shouei offers immediately. “Clean it all up, light a candle for you. How’s that sound?” 

You nod, closing your eyes. Exhaustion rests all over you. Shouei leans down and presses a kiss to your temple. 

“You want me to put on a show for you? The living room is all clean and vacuumed, your cats are on the couch.” 

“I don’t feel like moving.” 

“I’m here, I’ll carry you.” 

You give Shouei a big, pitiful look. Nodding, you halfheartedly push off your blankets. 

Shouei scoops you back up, squeezing you tight. He carries you back out to where your cats are in fact lounging about. He has to set you upright to avoid them, but you don’t mind. You wrap your arm around one of them and cuddle up behind him, pressing your face against his soft fur. 

Her merps and adjusts against you. 

Shouei stands with the remote in one hand and other on his hip. He flips through the apps, selecting your comfort show and putting it on without any question. 

Then he sets about the bathroom. First, he clears off the counter. He puts anything that is mostly empty into a box for you to deal with later, or for him to repurchase. Anything dusty goes in another bag for you to look at later. Everything gets thoroughly cleaned and wiped down and rinsed. You don’t own a mop so he swiffers the floors thrice. 

Shouei pats back out to your living room to grab a candle— they’re all scented similarly. He picks one that’s almost finished and grabs a lighter, heading to the bathroom. With the candle lit, he begins to run the bath, using the last of some epsom salts and a bath bomb he found tucked away. The water turns a comforting milky color. 

He sets up a few things in the bathroom, including an ice cold soda for you to enjoy. He’s not sure how this is going to go— he wants you clean but he wants you to relax too. A fresh pair of pyjamas sit out for you, along with a fresh towel. 

When he comes to get you, he almost doesn’t want to disturb you. You’re focused on the show, cats nuzzled against you. But he needs to. You deserve to be clean and smell like oats and honey. 

“Is it time?” You ask, slowly pulling your gaze away from the television. 

He nods, holding out his hands to you. You sigh and use them to pull yourself up. With his hands on your hips, he leads you to the bathroom. It smells delightful; warm, comforting, clean in the best way. Shouei helps you out of your clothes, placing them in the hamper. There’s a big bruise on your hip and thigh that draws his attention immediately. 

“I wore some yoga pants that were too tight for me,” you explain as you climb into the bath. It’s hot, but in the best way. 

“Did you put them somewhere to get rid of them?” Shouei asks. 

You’re quiet for a moment as you sink into the water. 

“They’ll fit again.” 

Shouei doesn’t say anything. It’s not a battle to fight right now. He offers you the glass of soda that you happily take, sipping it. 

“When’s the last time you went to the spa?” Shouei asks, pulling the stool over to sit on beside the tub. He looks comical there, knees practically to his chest. One of his hands dips into the water, gently bringing the hot water up your chest. 

“A while ago. I just don’t have time for it,” you murmur. “And it’s so busy on the weekends, I get so anxious.”

Shouei nods. His broad hands come to your shoulders, your traps, gently massaging into the underused muscles. 

He doesn’t speak, just lets you sit there and soak for a bit. He massages your hands for you, gently rolling your wrist to open it up, gently cracking your knuckles and massaging all the pressure points. 

He scrubs you down the best he can. Had you been any less vulnerable, it would have been humiliating. Had you been any less exhausted, you would have insisted you could do it yourself. But Shouei is diligent. He gets your body, washes your hair. Massages your scalp. It feels so good, you let out a sigh of relief. 

He rinses your hair out with the shower head, carding his fingers against your scalp. He clips your hair up out of the water, giving you the opportunity to sink deeper into it, up to your chest. 

Shouei checks the time on his watch. His stupidly nice watch. 

“It’s just about dinner time,” Shouei says. “We should order something in. What would you like?” 

You hum. “I’m not hungry.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

With a sigh, you shrug. “I don’t know.” 

“Want some sushi?” Shouei asks. 

“Just sashimi,” you murmur. 

“Rice won’t kill you,” Shouei says. His fingers dangle in the water. “You don’t want a spider roll? Spider roll and a Diet Coke…” 

It’s tempting. You loll your head to look up at Shouei with a little pout. 

He doesn’t want to ask when you ate last. 

“I love you,” Shouei says, cupping your cheek. 

Resting the full weight of your head against his hand, you nod a bit. 

“Love you too,” you murmur. 

“Is that a yes for sushi?” Shouei asks. 

“Yeah.” You can’t ignore the gnawing in your stomach. “As long as we can watch something on TV.” 

“Of course we can,” Shouei says. “What do you want to watch?” 

“Anything.” You close your eyes. “I’m almost out of lotion.” 

“I’ll scrape it out for you. Do you want to shave?” 

You stick a leg out of the tub and rest it on the edge. Suds collect against your shin and calf, on the hair there. 

“Yeah. But I’ve got no shaving cream.” 

“We can find something,” Shouei assures you. He reaches back to one of the boxes, plucking an almost empty tub of hair mask up. He cracks it open, then finds your razor. 

Your face heats up. Yes, you didn’t want to shave but wanted to be shaved. Yes, Shouei would do it for you without asking. Somehow, the prospect of him doing it has your mind reeling. 

“Stop thinking,” Shouei says, rubbing a hand along the side of your thigh. He lathers your leg in the mask, before starting on his work. He’s soft and kind the entire time, more careful than you are. As he shaves, one of your cats paws at the closed bathroom door and meows with his broken heart. 

Shouei ignores it, in favor of bending your knee slightly to shave over it. As he’s shaving, he’s thinking through the rest of the evening. Finishing laundry, eating. He wants to ask you to move in with him, but now doesn’t feel like the right time. Moving you to Italy is like a proposal, you deserve to be wined and dined outside of your depression apartment. 

Maybe he can start leaving seeds. Just here and there. Talk about how he wants to provide for you. More than he already does. Wants you to wake up in his bed. You could go on walks in the morning. 

The two of you should probably go on a walk tonight. Maybe between drying your hair and when the food comes. 

Shaved and wet, Shouei helps you out of the bath and into a dry towel. He pats you down, lotions you up, combs your hair. 

You stop him with a hand on his side as he reaches for the blow drier. 

“I can’t handle that sound right now,” you admit. 

Shouei looks at the old, orange device. He could get you a quiet one, he just got a quiet one for his sister. She gets overstimulated too easily, easier than you do. 

It cost what used to be an arm and a leg. But it’s worth it. 

“Okay,” Shouei says. He doesn’t want you walking around outside with wet hair. He takes the towel in his hands, turns you back to face the mirror, and gently scrunches your hair to pull more water from it. 

Your ‘jams are this soft, waffle knit off white. You had been so excited to find them at TJMaxx. Shouei wraps you up in another Maxx find, a soft blanket, on the couch. He grabs his phone from where it rests on the kitchen counter, coming to sit beside you. He lights the candle in the middle of the coffee table. 

Settling back, he opens up the food delivery app on his phone. One of your cats immediately makes himself at home on you. You slump to rest your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m going to order a variety of things,” Shouei says. He rests his hand on your thigh. “You don’t have to worry about it at all.”

Humming, you shift a bit more to rest your head in Shouei’s lap. 

“How many Diet Cokes do you want?” He asks. 

“Two,” you murmur. 

Shouei nods. Three Diet Cokes for his princess. The TV clicks on, and with it comes reruns of Hell’s Kitchen, which are white noise by this point. 

Shouei leans over and places his phone on the coffee table. He cards his fingers through your wet hair, lulling your eyes closed again. 

“I think I want to quit my job,” you whisper softly. “I’ve spent my past few therapy appointments complaining about it.” 

Shouei’s ears pick up and he fights the urge to turn down the volume on the TV. If you quit your job you don’t have to find another, your full time job can be as his partner— pampered and loved. 

“What’s going on, baby?” Shouei asks, trying to keep his voice steady. 

You sigh softly, gently squeezing his knee. It doesn’t hurt, thankfully. “Just being run ragged. I’m not smart enough for what I’m doing.” 

“You’re plenty smart,” Shouei says immediately. “You’re the smartest person I know.” 

You sigh softly. “Not really, not if you saw me…” 

Shouei gently shushes you, continuing to play with your hair. “That’s not true.” 

With a soft sigh, you nod. “I think I’m burnt out.” 

You are. It’s obvious. Shouei could tell from the state of your kitchen, from the way you hadn’t messaged him back. It’s the ADHD too, what’s out of sight is out of mind. And unfortunately, he’s fallen victim to that. 

“What’s been going on?” Shouei asks, but he thinks he knows. “Is it the preps?” 

“Yeah,” you exhale, turning your head to face Shouei, the rest of your body following. “I just don’t know if I can do it.” 

“It’s nothing you can’t handle,” Shouei says, trying his hardest to comfort you. 

You laugh, a little wet, a little self-depriciatingly. “That’s what my coworkers say.” 

“They’re right,” Shouei says softly. 

“I know,” you bemoan, “I wish they weren’t.” 

“You don’t mean that,” Shouei says. His fingers find their way to the back of your head, where he scratches ever so gently. You’re probably just hungry, he wants to say, but he doesn’t want to stoke what seems to be a sore subject at the moment. 

All you have for him is a sigh. That concerns Shouei a bit. 

“Do you want to watch something that’s not reality TV?” He suggests. 

Another sigh. “What, do you think I’m rotting my brain?” 

“I do, actually,” Shouei says bluntly. He reaches over and grabs the remote, exiting out of the show. He scrolls for a bit, flipping around before landing on what he knows is your favorite TV show. 

He doesn’t miss the way you relax further against him. 

With the sushi spread out on the coffee table, you and Shouei sit on the floor around it. There’s still your show playing in the background. Shouei has a Coke Zero with his meal, to make sure you don’t feel alone in having a soda so late into the evening. 

“You know, I’m looking to buy a place in Italy,” Shouei says casually. He’s been renting for the longest time. “I’m thinking that I want an in-home gym of some sort. There’s the villa I’ve been looking at… it’s got this spare bedroom that faces south so the sun is always really pretty in it. I think it could make a really nice place for you to paint.” 

“I’m not a real artist like that,” you murmur, using your chopsticks to play with your wasabi. 

“Well, not right now,” Shouei says. The words slip out: “But you’d have time if you moved in with me.” 

You pause your playing. “What?” He must be joking. Though, upon further inspection, his face is dead serious. Not that Shouei jokes often, anyways. 

“Just something to think about.” He reaches for his phone, pulling up the photos app and handing it over to you. “It’s got a hot tub and a wine cellar.” 

You accept the phone and flip through the photos. The sunlight is amazing in each one, and the main living area is almost open concept, with big, wide arches that give an illusion of separation. 

“There’s a nice nail salon and a yoga studio within walking distance,” Shouei continues. “And a sushi place, and a park. There’s enough space that you could have a little studio and Mom and my sisters could have rooms too. They wouldn’t live with us, but they’d be able to visit.” 

“Shouei, I can’t just quit my job and freeload off of you,” you say, still swiping through the pictures in disbelief. 

“Who’s to say you’re freeloading?” Shouei asks, leaning back against the couch. He sets his chopsticks down and reaches over to place a hand over your free one. He manages to make eye contact with you, still serious as can be. “Did I say you were freeloading?”  

“Well, not exactly, but that’s what it would be, wouldn’t it?” 

Shouei shakes his head. A face framing strand has fallen out from his bun, and he tucks it back behind his ear. 

“Absolutely not.” 

You bite your bottom lip and hand the phone back to him. The worst crosses your mind: “What if we break up, Shouei?” 

“Are you planning on breaking up with me?” He asks. 

“No,” you respond quietly. 

“I’m not planning on breaking up with you. Ever.” 

You play around with your food, removing a piece of fish off the rice it sits on and eating it. Fuck it tastes so good. Your stomach rattles against you, desperate for more. 

“It’s just something to think about,” Shouei says. “You don’t have to make a decision right now.” 

You want to, though. Italy? Milan is gorgeous. Shouei is already pretty vocal about how he wishes you could come to his away games, how no matter which way the game turns, he just wants to see you. And if you weren’t working… 

But God, the world needs teachers, don’t they? And you’re in such a good position, where you aren’t reliant on your measly paycheck because you scored big with your boyfriend after years and years of claiming you’d marry right. 

Well, you and Shouei aren’t married yet, but…

Shouei doesn't interrupt the mental battle that you appear to be fighting. He knows at the end of the day, you love your job. Stupid kids over stupid adults. But what if there was no more stupidity? Granted, Shouei could be plenty boneheaded himself, but…

“What about my cats?” You ask. You use your fingers to disrobe a piece of nigiri and break the salmon in half, giving one side to each of your fluffy, four legged boys who have been eagerly hovering and sniffing. 

Shouei watches with careful eyes and you rid yourself of a piece you would have to eat. “They could come with you, of course.” 

You hum. He knows how much they mean to you, paying for a good cat sitter that comes and sleeps over with them when you’re visiting him. 

“South facing windows… imagine all the good sunlight they would get to lay in…” Shouei says. 

You smile softly at that. “Falling asleep every night with you is already convincing enough.” 

Shouei’s eyes light up. “Yeah?” 

Putting your chopsticks down, you nod. “Yeah.” 

Shouei leans over to place a kiss to your lips. He certainly hasn’t kissed you enough since arriving. A gentle hum leaves your lips at the contact, which you automatically flutter your eyes shut and lean into. One of Shouei’s big, broad hands cups your cheek, deepening the kiss for only a moment before pulling away. 

Slowly. So, so slowly. Just so he can flutter his eyes open and watch as your eyes slowly open. 

“Oh, I’ve missed kissing you,” you whisper. 

Shouei smiles at that. “I’ve missed you.” The long distance is taking a toll on him. It’s nothing he wants— love is best shared close by. His family is already so far away and you’re even further. It’s not fair. 

You hum softly, disbelief on the notes. 

“What’s that?” Shouei asks, furrowing his brow. 

“I don’t know.” You don’t make eye contact with him. Instead, you’re focused on his knee. 

With a gentle hand, because that’s all Shouei is to you, a gentle giant, he tilts your head back to force eye contact. 

“I missed you,” he says firmly. When you shift your gaze to the left, he follows it. Slightly hunched over, eyes meeting yours, a serious expression on his face. “I missed you because I love you. I love hearing from you, I love spending time with you, I love being in your presence. I missed you.” 

You swallow so thick that Shouei feels it on his bent knuckle beneath your chin. 

Tears well up in your eyes at the declarations. Shouei presses a kiss to your forehead, before shifting to open up his arms. 

“I just want to cuddle on the couch,” you murmur. 

Shouei’s eyes bounce to your takeout tray, which has a few pieces remaining on it, including the pat of rice from the nigiri piece you gave to your cats. 

“Alright,” he says, putting his hands behind him so they rest on the couch and hoisting himself up effortlessly. He looks over at you, where you’re still sitting on the floor. “Do you want me to spend the night?” 

“Yes,” you reply instantly, nodding. You shift on your knees and rest your temple against his thigh. His hand comes to gently scratch at your head, through the still-damp tresses. 

“Do you want to sleep here, or at the hotel room I got?” Shouei asks. 

The hotel room seems tempting. Anything to get you out of the apartment. But your cats…

“I’m already in my ‘jams,” you say. 

He smiles softly. “Why don’t you come walk with me to the car so I can get my ‘jams on?” 

Soon, you’re by the door slipping into your outside slippers. You hold Shouei’s hand as you head towards his rental car. 

“Maybe tomorrow we can go on a walk?” Shouei suggests as he shoulders his bag. “Just a quick one.” 

“I’ve been walking,” you say defiantly. 

“But what about with me?” Shouei rounds the car to grab his water bottle out of the cupholders. You trail behind him. “We could go downtown, to the coffee shop you like. Walk around a little bit there.” 

Once he closes the car door, you turn to walk into your apartment. Shouei now follows behind you, but quickly falls beside you to take your hand. 

“No?” He asks. 

“Maybe,” you say. “I don’t have anything cute to wear.” 

“I’ll finish your laundry tonight, before we go to bed,” Shouei says quickly. “Put it away and everything.” 

“Do you want to see the updates I've made to my Animal Crossing island?” 

“I do,” he says.

The two of you cross back into the threshold of your apartment, and it feels so good. All clean, with Shouei behind you. 

Your man helps you get comfortable on the couch again, this time with your Switch controllers in your hands and a mug of tea on the coffee table. He cleans dinner up, does another load of laundry. He folds your clothes while you show him around your island. 

It only takes him a few trips to put your clothes away and change into his own ‘jams, then he’s settling in beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He presses a soft kiss to your temple. 

“Wanna play something with me?” You ask, blinking up at him. 

“Yeah,” he says. “What are you thinking?” 

Humming, you close out of Animal Crossing and open up Smash instead. Shouei chuckles and you can feel the rumble of his chest from where you lean against him. 

“Let me get a mug of tea, too. I get too competitive playing this,” he says good naturedly, standing up. 

“Okay!” You chirp, watching him go into the kitchen. “Maybe tomorrow we can go shopping? I think buying new underwear will make me feel better.” 

“Whatever you want, princess,” Shouei says. “You want anything else?” 

Humming, you turn back to the screen. “I’m sure I do.” 

Shouei comes back and sits on the couch once more. He accepts the pastel controller from you, which his dwarfs in his hands. 

Look, he wants to say, look how happy you are when you’re with me.

They don’t give a fuck what having BPD actually entails, and they certainly don’t give a fuck about HOW BPD develops. No, they only care about that mystical “limited edition-gorilla grip-goth-daddy-issue having pussy”

Oh you were SA’d as a child and that resulted in hyper sexuality as an adult- which isn’t actually fucking fun but absolutely miserable to have?? They love that shit. They love your suffering. I fucking hate it here.