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It’s one of those days where Daichi just feels weighted. Drained and exhausted, down to his bones.
Finding sleep is hard in the night, and when he finally manages to drift off well past two in the morning, his dreams are uneasy and fitful, and wake him up in a cold sweat, tangled in his blankets, five minutes before his alarm goes off.
He’s been feeling shitty for a while now, but somehow it just seems to spill over that morning, staring up at his bedroom ceiling with his alarm going off on his bedside table, the sky dark outside his window because the sun has not yet risen. He knows he needs to get up. He knows he needs to put on clothes and eat and take the bus and go to his eight-thirty class, but he can’t bring himself to move.
He turns off his alarm. Rolls over, but doesn’t go back to sleep. Closes his eyes and breathes until the sun is high and shining in his face, impossible to ignore.
Around ten a.m., his phone buzzes beneath his pillow. He reaches a hand underneath and drags it out, squinting at the words on the dim screen.
> where are you???
> did you sleep in and miss class?? how unlike you, captain sawamura
> i took notes for you, because i’m a nice person
Kuroo. Of course. Daichi’s lips twitch despite himself.
Another text lights up his screen.
> in all seriousness, are you even on campus?? i’m having breakfast at the coffee shop all alone and normally you’d be awake by now, so where are you
> sawamura
> sawamuraaaaa
> you turned your read receipts off so i can’t even tell if you’re getting these
> sawamuraaaaaaaaaaaa
> aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
> aaaaaaaaaaaa
Daichi decides to cut that off before it continues. Knowing Kuroo, it could go on for a while.
>> Sorry, I couldn’t make it to class today. Thanks for taking notes.
A small … appears at the bottom of the screen while Kuroo types. It disappears and reappears a few times, and Daichi sighs, long and low, half-dreading what’s coming.
> you okay?
Listless, Daichi taps out a Not really, but deletes it before he can send it.
Another text from Kuroo comes in a minute later despite Daichi’s lack of response.
> coming over
Daichi manages to drag himself out of bed to change out of his pyjamas and splash water on his face by the time Kuroo raps on the front door in a distinctive pattern. When Daichi opens the door, Kuroo doesn’t speak immediately, scrutinizing Daichi in that unnervingly piercing way of his, eyes narrowed.
The first thing he says after a long minute of looking is, “Well, you don’t look like you have the plague.”
Daichi looks down and shrugs. “I’m not sick,” he says, though that doesn’t feel quite right.
Kuroo puts his hands on Daichi’s shoulders and turns him around. Daichi lets himself be manhandled into the living room of his own apartment, where Kuroo pushes him down unceremoniously onto the couch.
“I’m making lunch,” Kuroo announces, taking off his backpack and placing it with a thump on the floor next to Daichi’s feet. “You are going to sit here and warm up the couch for me. It’s freezing outside.”
Kuroo lobs the plush throw from the other end of the couch into Daichi’s face, and Daichi sputters through a mouthful of fluff. By the time he’s untangled himself from the blanket, Kuroo’s already in the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards and pulling out—
“I thought you were making lunch,” Daichi says as Kuroo tears open a bag of chips—Daichi’s chips—with a gleam in his eye.
“Appetizer,” Kuroo says serenely through a mouthful of Kappa Ebisen. To his credit, he puts the half-eaten bag on the kitchen table, and after a minute of opening every cupboard and drawer in the kitchen under Daichi’s amused gaze, finds where the pots and pans are kept and begins the process of cooking.
Daichi normally would like to watch Kuroo cook, but even though he’s already been lying around all morning, his eyelids grow heavy and he puts his head down on a couch cushion, wrapping himself in the throw blanket. It’s inexplicably comforting to hear the sound of Kuroo puttering around in the kitchen, even when he drops something with a clatter in the sink and lets out a surprised yelp that echoes around the apartment.
He twitches out of a light doze to the touch of cool fingers over his forehead.
“What are you doing,” Daichi says without opening his eyes.
“Checking for a temperature,” comes Kuroo’s voice, much closer than Daichi had expected. He opens his eyes and bats Kuroo’s hand away, sitting back up on the couch.
“I told you,” he sighs. “I’m not sick.”
Kuroo raises an eyebrow, but passes chopsticks and a bowl of rice and steamed vegetables into Daichi’s hands. A matching bowl sits on the coffee table, along with a gently steaming pot of tea and two cups.
Daichi eyes this setup a little reproachfully.
“We shouldn’t be eating on the couch.”
“Too late,” Kuroo says with a smirk, putting his feet up on the couch and tugging a portion of the throw blanket over his bent knees. He doesn’t even have to lean over to reach for the second bowl on the coffee table, damn him and his long arms. Daichi rolls his eyes but goes along with it, chewing slowly on his own portion. He doesn’t feel hungry, but something about the taste and texture of food in his mouth revives him a bit.
He finishes well before Kuroo, because Kuroo is an obnoxiously slow eater who practically eats every grain of rice individually because he wants to “savour” it. Yet Daichi is content to sit there on the couch, head resting in his hand, while Kuroo finishes off his lunch beside him, socked feet pressing comfortably against Daichi’s thigh. When Kuroo is finally done eating, he places his bowl on the coffee table next to Daichi’s and settles back on the couch with a content little sigh, stretching his legs onto Daichi’s lap beneath the blanket. His resemblance to a lanky, satisfied cat is uncanny, and despite the heaviness in his limbs, Daichi’s lips quirk upwards. He always finds himself smiling more whenever Kuroo’s around.
His eyes are just starting to drift shut again when Kuroo breaks the silence. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”
His voice is quiet, unjudgemental, but something churns in Daichi’s stomach. He shrugs and doesn’t meet Kuroo’s gaze.
“Didn’t sleep that well,” he says, which isn’t entirely a lie.
A few long seconds pass. “Bad day?”
Bad week, Daichi doesn’t say, but for one sudden, heady moment, he almost does. The moment passes as quickly as it comes, leaving him a little light-headed, with a strange sense of disappointment in his chest.
He doesn’t realize he’s zoned out until Kuroo says, “Sawamura?” with a note of concern in his voice.
Daichi shakes his head, fists his hands in the fluffy throw to anchor himself back to the real world. “Sorry,” he says, forcing himself to look up at Kuroo’s face. Kuroo’s eyes are a little wide, his mouth a little downturned, but he blinks when Daichi meets his eyes, and his whole face seems to soften a bit. He stares at Daichi for a while with a contemplative air, but Daichi is used to this, so he waits to see what Kuroo will say next.
“Hey,” Kuroo speaks up suddenly in a conversational tone, completely at odds with his gentle expression. “Would you mind if I ran back to my apartment for a second and brought something over?”
Daichi blinks back at him, a bit stunned. “Okay?”
“Great!” Kuroo is off the couch and at the door before Daichi can react, shoving his feet into his shoes. He gives Daichi a wink as he opens the door. “I’ll only be a minute. See you in a bit!”
“Okay,” Daichi repeats like a broken record as the door clicks shut. He stares at the closed door with more than a little confusion.
It takes longer than a minute, but soon the door is creaking open again and Kuroo pokes his head inside. He grins when he spots Daichi still sitting on the couch.
“Close your eyes, Sa’amura,” he commands, looking pleased with himself. Daichi rolls his eyes at him before closing them, but he can’t help but smile again at Kuroo’s antics.
There’s a shuffling that can only be Kuroo taking off his shoes again. Then the door shuts, and there’s a rustling of fabric. The sound of a zipper. Daichi, despite his growing curiosity, keeps his eyes shut. Then footsteps approach, and something warm and heavy drops into his lap.
Daichi does a double-take when he opens his eyes, only to see a furry white mound curled up and purring on his legs. It’s Marimo, Kuroo’s spoiled calico cat, and she doesn’t seem at all bothered to suddenly find herself in Daichi’s apartment.
“What the hell, Kuroo?” he says, and he can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of his chest at this unexpected development. He runs a hand over Marimo’s soft ears and looks up to see Kuroo place the cat carrier next to the couch before sitting down next to Daichi, smirk softening.
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh in a while,” he comments. He drapes an arm around Daichi’s shoulders and pokes at the tip of Marimo’s twitching tail with his other hand. Marimo ignores him in favour of kneading her paws into the throw blanket still draped over Daichi’s legs, purr intensifying. There’s something inexplicably soothing about having this small animal cuddled up to him (not to mention said animal’s owner pressing in comfortingly on his other side), and Daichi lets himself relax, resting his head on Kuroo’s shoulder. A tight knot unwinds somewhere inside him.
“Thank you,” he says, and his eyes don’t get watery, nope, not even a little bit.
Kuroo presses a kiss into Daichi’s hair, and it feels right. “I’m here for you,” he murmurs, “even when things get hard.”