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Nanami had been distant for a while - snappy, disinterested, working until the late hours of the night. Affection from him felt obligatory: a cold kiss on the cheek before leaving the house and after returning; vague compliments, mostly about your cooking, that never really reached his eyes; a slow deterioration of quality time until it became a wistful fantasy to have his attention for five minutes.

“I’m busy, Y/N. Leave me be.”

Most of your conversations were strictly functional - then again, Nanami had never been one for what he deemed ‘superficial niceties’ (known to others as polite conversation). Had it not been for the fact that he’s mostly holed up in his home office, you’d be inclined to suspect him of cheating.

In all honesty, you had began to blame yourself. If there was another woman, then at least you wouldn’t feel this crushing weight on your shoulders. It felt as if you weren’t enough, that Nanami was sick of you and it was all your fault. He was constantly tired, constantly on edge… constantly unhappy. You were a failure of a wife, playing along with this farce just to feel some form of normality. Just keep swimming, you told yourself. All marriages go through a rough patch, he’ll come round.

Today was one of the rare instances that Nanami had to leave for an in-person meeting at his company, the quarterly report neatly tucked under his arm to read over beforehand. You had made him breakfast, but he didn’t eat, preferring to sip black coffee from the pot. You had tried to adjust his tie for him, but he’d pushed your hand away, fixing it himself. And then, like clockwork, like it was a necessary yet unsatisfactory part of his routine, Nanami kissed your cheek. Cold, brief, and apathetic, accompanied by a murmured ‘see you tonight’.

It had been all too much when the door closed behind him - you grabbed a nearby wine bottle and retreated to the bedroom to cry.

You weren’t one to assume love was like the movies - love for you had never been like the romanticised, fantastical bullshit the media tries to shove down everyone’s throats.

In the beginning, yours and Kento’s love had been quiet, simple even, but boundless. He may have not been the most flamboyant in his gestures, or the most poetic with his words, but Kento ensured you knew just how much he adored you. Stolen kisses when you were busy doing something, a soft inhale of your hair as he cuddled you close, a squeeze of your hand as you navigated through a busy crowd.

Kento didn’t bring you anywhere anymore. God, you missed the man you married.

Retrospectively, wine on an empty stomach at 9am was not a good breakfast, but you couldn’t help it. Your mind swirled around and around in circles as you tried to soothe it with alcohol - a futile effort. The more you drank, the more memories flooded your conscious, reducing you to tears.

Rather than going to do the food shopping, or cooking dinner, or anything of value, you simply sat in bed, drunkenly sobbing. This was only worsened by the wedding album you managed to procure from somewhere, staining the pages as you flipped through, sniffling and hiccuping.

Eventually, after a wasted day of drinking and sobbing, followed by more sobbing and drinking, you had passed out in bed, hugging the wedding album to your chest. The alcohol had numbed your senses rather than the pain, so you were none the wiser when Nanami opened the door in the early evening.

The first thing Nanami noticed was the lack of warmth. The house was freezing cold, the kitchen still had the remnants of his abandoned breakfast, and you were nowhere to be seen. He quirked an eyebrow, confused by your absence - usually you’d welcome him home with a smile, the smell of something delicious wafting through the air as you helped him out of his blazer. That was what he was used to, that was the routine you two had fallen into. Then he would kiss your cheek, compliment you on the food, and sit down for dinner. But there was no dinner, no help - no you.

“Y/N?” Nanami called out, setting down his briefcase with a sigh, shrugging his blazer off and tossing it on the nearby chair. “Y/N, I’m home!”

When he was met by nothing but silence, concern began to gnaw at Nanami. Not even bothering to remove his shoes, he paced to the bedroom, throwing open the door. None of the lights were on but he could see your faint silhouette under the covers, and Nanami rolled his eyes. You must’ve napped and overslept, he thought to himself, slightly irritated that you hadn’t prepared something for him to eat. He paced to the bedside table and flicked on the lamp, voice low and neutral, yet still tainted with a twinge of annoyance.

“Y/N, come on now. Surely being a housewife isn’t that tiring-”

He trailed off when he turned to face you, annoyance melting away as the light revealed your state of ruin. Dried tear stains ran down your cheeks, hair in disarray and your nose visibly irritated. Drops of red on the sheet concerned him, only for his questions to be answered by the bottle of wine now visible on the other bedside table. But the knife through his chest? Seeing you, his darling wife, whimpering in her sleep while clutching their wedding album.

Shocked, Nanami softly sat on the edge of the mattress, taking in the view with both concern and surprise. Now that he was fully focusing on you, he saw the dark bags under your eyes, the fitful sleep you were in clearly not relaxing. A tentative hand stroked the globe of your cheek, the usually smooth texture interrupted with the roughness of the tear stains. Nanami cupped your cheek carefully, as if you were fragile porcelain that would break under any pressure. His thumb rubbed smooth circles into your skin, and his brows were furrowed in concern as he spoke again, voice thick with emotion.

“Oh baby, I shouldn’t have let you get like this.”

Leaning forward, Kento softly tilted your head up slightly, pressing a sweet kiss to your slightly-parted lips. The scent of wine on your breath was overwhelming, and the ripple of unease it caused in his stomach only worsened the guilt gnawing at him. He knew he had been a pretty shit husband as of late, becoming more and more engrossed in work as they continued to up his workload, but this? This was the clearest indicator of just how harsh he’d been on you, and that made him feel more sick than the strong smell of wine.

He had failed you.

As he stared at you, engrossed in the sudden changes he hadn’t seen slowly building for months, you shivered against his hand, snuggling into it. For a second, an emotion flashed across your face - relief perhaps? - before you groggily regained consciousness.

“K-Kento..?”

Your words were slurred, and your eyes unfocused, barely able to hold his gaze as Nanami withdrew his hand from you. His other hand took yours, holding it tight as you groaned, trying to sit up. Kento shook his head, softly pushing you back down.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, lie down. I’m here, Y/N.”

Tears began to form in your eyes as Nanami began stroking your hair, finger twirling a strand of it, just as he used to do. The care in the action, the comfort, only worsened the pain festering inside you.

“Ken, I’m s-sorry… so fuckin’ sorry Ken..”

Brows furrowing further, Nanami scooped you into his embrace, tugging you closer when you clung to him and began sobbing.

“Sorry? Baby, what happened? You haven’t done anything wrong.” His palm flattened against your back, rubbing in circles as if soothing a child.

“You hate m-me! You fuckin’ hate me because… because I’m so fucking shit at being a wife! You- hic!- you don’t love me anymore!”

Nanami was rendered speechless by your outburst, looking at you with his jaw dropped. You still clung to him, fists crumpling the front of his dress shirt as you gasped for breath in between sobs. After his momentary short-circuit, his free hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer as his other hand still tried to calm you with its ministrations.

“Y/N, please don’t say that. There’s never a day where my love for you hasn’t been strong and steadfast. I don’t think I’m capable of hating you, my love.”

Tears welling in his own eyes, Nanami began rocking you back and forth softly, murmuring sweet nothings to you in a desperate attempt to calm you. As your sobs slowly began to subside into sniffles, Nanami tenderly tilted your head to face him, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I’m the shit husband, Y/N. I’m the one who made my wife believe I hated her even for a second.”

He sighed to himself when your eyes were still unfocused, silent tears still trailing down your cheeks.

“Okay, I’m gonna get you some food. I bet you didn’t even eat today.”

Nodding sluggishly, you attempted to sit up and was yet again denied, this time with Nanami holding you close. He then set you back down into the cushions, adjusting them for you, before standing.

“I think it’s better if you stay here and I make you something.”

As Nanami turned to leave, your hand quickly jutted out, holding his wrist tight. He turned to you, surprised by the strength of your grip as your eyes pleaded with him.

“Stay, please.”

Chuckling, Nanami took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles, biting his lip after they brushed against your wedding band.

“I’ll be back soon, I promise. You need some food in you asap, and I didn’t have time for lunch today.”

With a drunken pout, you nodded and let your hand drop from his, cuddling the wedding album once again. Nanami hid his smile, leaving the door ajar so he could listen out for you.

While not exactly a Michelin star chef, Nanami was a decent cook, and had whipped up a small bowl of soup for himself and some buttered toast for you in record timing. He brought it back to the room, pausing in the doorway as he watched you flick through the wedding album, eyes finally dry and looking fairly more sober.

“I’ve got some toast for you. If you’re feeling up for it, there’s still soup on the stove.”

You nodded, closing the album and gently placing it on the side before gratefully accepting the plate of toast. Nanami settled down into the nearby armchair, taking in grateful mouthfuls of soup. The silence was calm, even with the slight undercurrent of tension, only interrupted by the crunch of toast and the clink of spoon on bowl.

When everything was cleared, Nanami changed out of his rumpled clothes, slid into bed next to you, turned off the lamp, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You allowed yourself to relax into the embrace, brain still a little fuzzy from the alcohol. The silence stretched on, both of you wide awake but reluctant to speak.

“Work has been hell, Y/N,” he finally admitted under the cover of night, finger rubbing circles absentmindedly into your upper arm, “I was taking on so much that I barely felt human anymore.”

Your eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness, but you still turned to look at him regardless. You could just about make out the bridge of his nose, and a few hairs that had refused to gel down properly.

“I know it’s not an excuse,” he continued, “but it’s my explanation for my distance. I was so caught up in trying for a promotion, working my ass off to provide for you, that I didn’t notice I wasn’t providing for you in any other way.”

Turning, you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady heartbeat pick up a little from the contact. It was true, almost every waking minute Nanami had been working. His grip tightened protectively, pushing you closer to his body, relishing in the warmth your body provided. He sniffed, and you could’ve sworn that you saw a tear roll down.

“You’re my everything, Y/N. I don’t know what I would be without you. You make my black and white world technicolor, vivid with possibilities I never even imagined.”

His lips tenderly pressed against your temple, moving to pepper across the rest of your face, drawing a giggle out of you. This was a side to Nanami you had never seen, and you didn’t interrupt in fear it would dishearten him from continuing.

“Seeing you like this, it really changed my perspective on things. I’m not just here to make money for you, I’m here to love you, protect you, cherish you like I promised in our vows.”

His face hovered over yours, and you could just about see the glint of his irises gleaming back at you.

“It’ll take me some time, but please don’t give up on me, on us. Please never feel like I could feel anything other than unyielding love for you.”

Cupping your cheek, you could feel the cool metal of his wedding band on your skin. You cupped his hand with your own, interlocking fingers, tears forming again. Only this time, they weren’t sad.

“I love you, Y/N. I have loved you, I do love you, and I forever will love you.”

“I love you too, Kento. I couldn’t give up on you if I tried.”

Drawing closer, you could practically feel the smile on his face, just before he pressed his lips onto your own.

“Good. I’ll never give you a reason to try again.”