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Ennoshita knows there’s something about the way limbs crack and bend that's horrific. Really, it’s terrifying — how one small too-far twist of a neck can end someone's career, or life.
It’s terribly dark and morbid, terrifying to think that any of his past teammates could have experienced it, if the conditions were right. It’s also why he sends texts to the ones still playing, lightly reminding them to stretch just a little more — today and tomorrow and the next day and—
Yeah.
That’s also why he, a Physical Therapist with a taste for retribution, sometimes sneaks out of the building during his lunch break just to call his boyfriend. Trust and Worry are different, sometimes.
Of course, he knows that Kiyoomi is one of the most stuck up and cautious and pretentious players he’s ever seen — but with Olympic training coming up and Kiyoomi’s unwillingness to just give up when he needs to, he worries.
So he’s a concerned partner, sue him.
“How’re you doing?” Cool. Casual. Unworry-like at all.
“Are these lunch calls going to be a norm now? You’re even worse than my mother on the first day of school.” Which doesn't say much, frankly, but Ennoshita lets it slide.
He bites his tongue and grins — the back of his shoe scraping on the wall he’s currently leaning against. “Are you saying you don't like hearing my voice? I thought you loved my voice.”
“Not when I'm in the middle of practice. Coach is already getting annoyed with me.” It sounds serious, yes, but Ennoshita can hear the faint edge to his voice and knows Kiyoomi is smiling.
“I just wanted to make sure you’re still coming home in time for dinner, you've already stayed late practicing twice this week. Take a break.”
That earns him a sigh. “Only if you’re getting dinner from that place down the street.”
Ennoshita messes with the keys in his pockets, smile never fading. “Of course.”
“Skipping lunch to call your boyfriend, hm?” One of Ennoshita’s coworkers teases him as he walks back in.
Ennoshita laughs and nods — reading a quick text from Kiyoomi before smiling and pocketing his phone.
(Kiyo 1:15 pm: <3)
“You know that there are places around here that serve better Onigiri, right? These are always sub-par.”
It's winter, which means the heat is cranked up as far as it can be — just a little too hot but any lower would be too cold. Kiyoomi is even starting to sweat just a little bit, Ennoshita notices when he looks a little too close at him while they're sitting across the table from one another.
Really, the Umeboshi isn't too bad — but he likes teasing Kiyoomi about how often they frequent that restaurant instead of ‘trying something new for once!’ like Kiyoomi’s cousin, Komori, is always saying to do. He takes another bite before setting it down and Ennoshita has the terrible desire to wipe the remnant umeboshi off the corner of Kiyoomi’s lips with his thumb.
“Yes, but the lady who owns this shop is nice — and these aren't even that bad.” Kiyoomi sighs at Ennoshita’s smile — genuine and soft.
He’s always admired the soft-spot that his boyfriend has for the elderly. It's strange, really — you’d think Kiyoomi would find them a bother, he thought Kiyoomi would find them a bother. But no one really sees the Kiyoomi that goes out of his way to buy their neighbor groceries every week. Or jog with their landlord's dog in the morning because they can’t take Tadeo on a walk as often anymore, old age is terrible for the joints.
“I guess so.”
There's an unseen tenderness in the way Kiyoomi’s wrists bend and twist — not one of surprise or fascination, just pure love in the form of a thumb pressing into soft joints. Sometimes, late at night, when the moon is quiet and the air even quieter, Ennoshita will fumble around just to find Kiyoomi’s hand and know he’s not alone. It's silly, really, this fasication with reassurance on cotton sheets and silky pillowcases — but Kiyoomi squeezes his hand back and they both find themselves at a standstill — quiet breaths symphonizing the cold.
(In the case of an unknown entity trying to break into your heart, let it. Ennoshita learns this the first time he finds himself wondering what that just was after a game they played against Itachiyama — rare, and probably shouldn't have happened, but the Itachiyama coach reached out and the crows took the weasels at chance.
It wasn't until a conversation long after that, one involving knocked over boxes and the heart of college move-in stress that he realized oh, that's what that was, and opened the door to his new roommate with a nervous smile.)
Aged confessions now folded neatly and placed along with scrubs and jerseys, college dorms have long been out of their life and their apartment is less of an apartment and more of a home. Ennoshita thinks about this as he slips off his shoes and throws his keys on the counter after a late shift.
It’s funny, how time can pass and you're either completely lost and unaware (one minute it’s the early afternoon and next it’s midnight) or entirely aware of it, conscious of every millisecond you're missing from your partner, your home.
(Ennoshita thinks he falls into the second category as he walks into the living room, tension immediately escaping his shoulders as he finds the thing he’d been missing most right in front of him.)
Kiyoomi is asleep on the couch with a book in his lap, and all Ennoshita does for a moment is stare. Kind, tired eyes tracing his boyfriend's figure, he sighs and checks the time — realizing that Kiyoomi probably hasn’t eaten dinner yet.
He contemplates waking Kiyoomi up now, but decides against it after seeing how tired Kiyoomi looks. Instead, he makes his way to their linen closet and grabs a spare blanket to throw over him while he makes dinner.
He’ll wake Kiyoomi up later.