what we donât say
pairing: sanemi shinazugawa x reader
genre: angst ¡ hurt/comfort ¡ fractured romance / rebuilding intimacy
warnings: emotional tension, implied infidelity (suspected but not actual), marital/relationship strain, swearing, crying
synopsis: feels like two strangers living together
you donât talk much anymore.
not like before.
you remember when it was late-night teasing, his voice low and rough as he pulled you into him and tucked his face into your neck like you were the only calm left in his war-torn world.
now, when he comes homeâif he even doesâhis jaw is tight, his hands are cold, and the space between you is so wide youâre afraid you wonât be able to cross it again.
he still eats the lunch you pack for him.
he just doesnât say thank you anymore.
sanemi doesnât know when things started slipping. maybe it was after the last mission. maybe it was after the third one where he came home late and your eyes were red and you didnât say why.
he told himself it was fine.
he told himself it wasnât that deep.
but you donât leave notes in his bento box anymore. not even a silly scribble. not even your name. just food. always neatly packed. always done with care. but never with warmth.
you lie in bed alone again.
except youâre not alone.
heâs there. technically.
his body is turned away from you, the curve of his back rising and falling with his breath. thereâs a pillow between you. you didnât put it there.
you stare at the ceiling.
why donât you ask him?
the voice in your head is crueler than usual. it always is when you're tired and anxious and begging your heart to shut up.
maybe he is seeing someone else.
maybe thatâs why he doesnât touch you anymore.
âyou used to look at me,â you say one morning, voice cracking through the stillness.
he freezes. his hands are mid-tie, fastening the last of his uniform. he doesnât turn around.
âwhat?â
âyou donât anymore.â you swallow. âyou used to look at me like i was⌠i donât know. something you actually loved me.â
his jaw tightens. you can see it even from where you sit on the edge of the bed.
he sighs through his nose. âi have to go.â
âyou always have to go.â
âiâm not doing this right now.â
âyou never want to do it any time.â
his voice risesâsharp, jagged like his temper.
âmaybe i donât want to come home just to feel like shit.â
you go quiet. completely still. your fingers tremble as they press into your thighs.
his shoulders tense. like he didnât mean to say it. or maybe he did.
but the damage is done.
sanemi doesnât look at you as he leaves.
the lunch is sitting on the table. packed and waiting like always.
he still takes it.
he just doesnât say goodbye.
later that night, you sit at the table alone, tracing the edge of your cup. tea long gone cold.
you think about her. whoever she is.
the woman heâs smiling at, maybe. the one who makes him laugh. or listen. or look.
is she gentle? is she strong? does she touch the scar on his chest like it doesnât terrify her?
or is this just your mind eating you alive?
he comes home late. again.
youâre pretending to be asleep. again.
his steps are quieter than usual, like heâs trying not to wake you.
but thenâhe stops.
you feel the bed dip slightly. he doesnât lie down.
just sits.
thenâŚ
âyou think iâm fucking someone else?â
your heart thuds in your chest.
your voice is weak. âwhat?â
âyou think iâm cheating.â
he sounds tired. more exhausted than angry.
you slowly roll onto your back, staring at him in the dark. you can barely make out his face.
âi donât know what to think anymore.â
heâs quiet for a long time.
then he says, âi havenât touched anyone but you. not since the day you gave a damn about me.â
you hate the tears that prick your eyes.
âthen why does it feel like youâre not mine anymore?â
he swallows. you hear it. feel it.
âbecause i donât know how to keep you without breaking something.â
he lies down beside you, this time closer.
his hand hovers between you both. not touching. not yet.
âi donât laugh âcause iâm scared if i do, i wonât stop. and youâll forget how i used to sound when everything wasnât falling apart.â
you blink up at the ceiling.
âand i donât touch you,â he adds, ââcause iâm afraid youâll pull away.â
you turn to him. meet his eyes.
âi never pulled away, sanemi. i was just waiting for you to hold me.â
his hand finally touches your arm.
and then your waist.
and then he pulls you in, like the distance has been burning him alive this whole time.
you bury your face in his chest and wonder why it had to get this far.
you donât say i love you.
neither does he.
but maybe tomorrow, youâll pack the lunch with a note again.
maybe youâll both start trying.
maybe.
