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It’s been a shitty day. 

Kenjirou doesn’t even want to think about how many lab files he had to look at. Or his stupid colleagues, who never seemed to get anything right and were always dragging Kenjirou into their messes.

Is he doing something wrong? He rubs his eyes, flopping down on his bed. He’d barely had the energy to change into his casual clothes, so his lab coat and scrubs hadn’t even made it into the laundry basket. Whatever.

The text he’d received from Tsutomu on his way home, telling him that practice was going to run late, had been the icing on the cake. Good, Kenjirou thinks bitterly, I hate when he sees me like this .

He scrunches his eyes closed even tighter, taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly. 

It’s times like these when he wonders how he even ended up with a fairly good life.

Accepting, supportive parents. Some pretty good friends. The best boyfriend.

He doesn’t deserve it, and he wishes he could do more somehow, but it’ll never be enough. It never is.

He’s halfway between deciding whether crying will make him feel better or worse when he hears the front door of their apartment click. Tsutomu shouldn’t be home yet, right?

Nonetheless, their bedroom door opens softly.

“Hey, you asleep?”

Tsutomu is far too gentle and kind with all his words and gestures, and now Kenjirou is leaning even further towards crying, whether it proves helpful or not.

He sniffs in an attempt to push back any tears that might threaten to spill. It must tip Tsutomu off because the next thing Kenjirou knows, the bed is dipping and Tsutomu is slinging an arm around his waist.

“What happened?”

Kenjirou shrugs. 

Everything? Nothing? How do you tell someone that you’re not deserving of their love?

“Just a bad day?” Tsutomu runs his fingers through Kenjirou’s hair.

Usually Kenjirou is pretty good at hiding his meltdowns, and he’s typically the one providing solace and comfort to Tsutomu. It was always odd being on the receiving end of it.

“Yeah,” Kenjirou whispers.

It had been a bad day. There was no reason to do a deep-dive into his self-loathing right now though.

Tsutomu hums, and they lay in silence for a few minutes. Tsutomu’s free hand feels around for Kenjirou’s own, linking their fingers together when he finally finds it. His other hand is still in Kenjirou’s hair, and it’s making him feel sleepy.

“I thought practice was gonna run late,” Kenjirou says after what feels like forever.

“Me too! We finished up on time though,” Tsutomu explains. “I wanted to stop and get something for dinner, but I didn’t know what you wanted, and you weren’t answering your phone.”

“Sorry,” Kenjirou says, feeling worse again.

“S’okay, just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Tsutomu pushes his nose against Kenjirou’s neck. It’s cold, and normally Kenjirou would shiver and push him off, but it’s more comforting than anything at the moment.

“Just wanna be with you,” Tsutomu tacks on with a content sigh.

It takes everything Kenjirou has to not lose it at that. Even after two years of dating, his ears still burn when Tsutomu is so shamelessly candid about his feelings.

He’s pretty certain if he tries to say anything in return, he’ll get too choked up and freak Tsutomu out. Instead, he twists around so that he can be as close to Tsutomu as possible. He presses their foreheads together and squeezes their joined hands tight.

With Tsutomu around, things would get better eventually. With Tsutomu around, Kenjirou would get better eventually.

Tomorrow would be better.