taking care of tired and overworked toji fushiguro
toji came home so quietly you almost didnât 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 heâs inside. but tonight itâs different. tonight he moves like someone carrying the whole world on his shoulders.
you peek out from the bedroom, and heâs 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 didnât just drain him. it hollowed him out.
âji?â 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 canât control.
âhey, sweetheart,â he murmurs, but it barely sounds like him. like heâs speaking through layers of exhaustion.
you walk to him slowly, gently, as if he might break if youâre too sudden. he doesnât move. he just watches you with that same tired, aching softness.
you touch his cheek. he closes his eyes. not dramatically. just like heâs finally safe enough to let himself rest for two seconds.
ârough day?â you whisper.
a humorless huff leaves him. âsomethinâ like that.â
you slide your fingers down to his hand and tug. âcome on. let me take care of you.â
he doesnât 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 youâre soft with him. like he doesnât 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 doesnât stop you. doesnât tease you. doesnât 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.
âiâm here,â you tell him, brushing your thumb over a scar on his shoulder. âalways.â
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.
âfeels goodâŚâ he mutters, voice so low it nearly melts into the steam. âreal good.â
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 heâs releasing tension he didnât realize heâd 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.
âyou donât gotta do all this,â he murmurs, but itâs weak. like heâs saying it because he thinks he should, not because he wants you to stop.
âi want to,â you whisper. âlet me.â
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. tojiâs 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.
âno oneâs ever-â he pauses, voice rough. â-taken care of me like this.â
your heart aches. you press a kiss to the back of his shoulder.
âget used to it,â you tell him softly. âyou deserve it.â
he freezes. then he turns his head just enough to look at you, eyes glassy in the candlelight.
âi really fuckinâ love you,â 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.
âi love you too,â you murmur into his hair, fingers combing through it again. âlet me keep loving you.â
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.
