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gotemsayingw0w · 4 years

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Kyoru Week Day 5

Prompt: Precious @kyoruweekofficial

It had been bothering him all day. A nagging, itchy feeling on his left shoulder. Innocuous enough that it wasn’t debilitating, but annoying enough that it was starting to really piss him off. So much so, that the second he got home from work, he ripped the top of his karategi off, searching for the culprit of his discomfort.

Kyo Sohma considered himself a simple man. He never really cared for fashion, instead choosing loose, comfortable clothing that was easy to move around in. It was why he could pack every single item of clothing he owned in a single duffel bag if he really wanted to. It was why he could go for a several mile run in every single item of clothing he owned if he really needed to. It was why, despite teasing from his cousins, friends, and his girlfriend, he kept around clothes that others deemed “hideous.” They were comfortable, dammit.

He hated tight clothes. He hated accessories. When he first began living with Shishou, he hated wearing his gi with his belt. He hated any type of rough, scratchy fabric. As he began running his fingers over the black fabric of his gi, searching for a loose thread or piece of lint that was irritating him, he got even more pissed off because this gi was perfectly worn in. If it was irreparably ruined he’d have to buy a new one and those took months to get to the loose, flexible uniform that Kyo deemed acceptable for work.

His fingers brushed over a small, raised bump and he grinned, triumphant that he wasn’t wrong, there was something off. There, among the stiff black cotton, was a series of tiny stitches, appearing to be in the shape of a heart.

“What the hell…” he whispered, bringing the cloth directly under the light of the flashlight on his phone. Sure enough, covering a small hole he didn’t remember having in this gi, there was an embroidered heart. He pinched the fabric between his fingers to confirm that this tiny patch was what had been bothering him all day.

He was certain it was the work of Tohru, his girlfriend. He couldn’t possibly think of another person besides the two of them who handled their dirty laundry and he definitely was not going to be the one to sew a heart over the hole let alone even notice it.

He walked into the single bedroom in their apartment, still holding the gi in his hand, running through his mind the various articles of clothing he had that had gathered small holes over the years. He never minded tiny little punctures in the sleeves or collars of his shirts or the weathered fabric in the knees of his pants. If something became too ratty, he’d always just thrown it away. But for some reason, the tiny patch on his gi connected something in his mind. He’d never held onto clothes this long before he knew Tohru.

Sure enough, he pulled item after item out of their shared wardrobe that had small little patches sewing up holes in his clothes. Most of them were simple, almost inscrutable. Places where seams had torn and been re-stitched with care and precision, but certainly not the factory-made stitches that came with the clothes. On other pieces of his clothing, however, there were the same tiny patches.

A pair of jeans with a tiny hole on the thigh had a tiny square sewn around it, the thread the same color as the denim. One of his favorite red hoodies that had garnered a small hole in the sleeve, had an embroidered triangle. His yellow v-neck that hardly fit anymore, but stayed in his wardrobe out of protest (he really didn’t think it was that ugly) had a tiny sun stitched around a hole in the hem. A pair of his most comfortable boxers had a tiny, orange cat sewn in the seat.

Quickly, a pile of mended clothes ended up at his feet until all that was left in his wardrobe were four white undershirts, a dearth of rarely-worn pants, and some of his less-preferred socks and underwear. Scattered around the floor were all of his most favorite, most comfortable clothing, somehow altered in an attempt to preserve their life.

The sound of a key turning in the door caught his attention and he listened as she called out in a sing-song tone, “I’m home!” The sound of rustling grocery bags, cabinets opening and closing, and water running from the sink brought him back down to Earth and, as Tohru’s footsteps neared their bedroom, he felt a blush creep to his cheeks.

“I didn’t realize you would beat me home!” She said as she walked down the hallway towards the door. “Did you have...an early…” her voice trailed off as she entered the room. She scanned the floor and the bed, no doubt trying to process exactly what he was doing.

“Hi,” Kyo said, holding an unscathed white undershirt in his hand as if he’d been caught committing a crime.

“Hi,” Tohru breathed in response. She didn’t ask a question, but the curiosity in her eyes indicated she would like to know the answer.

“My gi had a hole in it,” Kyo answered.

She frowned. “Another one?” She carefully stepped over the pile of clothes on the floor to grab the top off of the bed. Holding the garment up to inspect it, she asked “Where?”

Kyo shook his head. “Had,” he emphasized.

Tohru nodded. “The one in the shoulder? Yeah, I noticed it a few nights ago. Is it holding up okay?”

“Did you fix it?”

“Of course!”

“When?”

“Last night when I couldn’t fall back to sleep.”

“Did you fix all of these?”

Tohru blinked, confused by the line of questioning. She nodded. Of course she had mended them. Who else would have? “Are you upset that I fixed them?” She asked. Her face remained neutral, but the slight wavering in her voice displayed her nerves.

Kyo’s initial response was automatic. “N-no, I’m not…” he lowered the white undershirt back into the dresser. “I just didn’t…” he couldn’t finish the thought.

Was he upset that she fixed them? No. Actually, he was rather touched by the gesture. She knew how much he valued comfort and how well-loved his clothes were that she went out her way to preserve them. It was, at its core, the most kind gesture. The purest display of love that could possibly exist. Of course he wasn’t upset that she fixed them, no. The emotion was much more complicated than that.

It was the same feeling he had when she’d confessed to him two years prior, albeit on a much smaller scale. It was such a clear, irrefutable declaration of love that he was not expecting. He had spent so much of his life feeling not only undeserving of love, but turned off to the idea completely. He wasn’t the kind of person who could be loved. He didn’t deserve it. He was a terrible person, a monster. Whenever someone close to him tried to offer him love, he immediately became defensive.

That feeling, the feeling of being undeserving, had gotten better since he had met Tohru and especially since they had moved away together nearly a year ago. But it crept in occasionally. He was still plagued by negative thoughts sometimes. That small voice inside his head piped up every so often to tell him he didn’t deserve any of this. However, in her actions and with her words, she reminded him every day you do deserve this. She didn’t have to say it verbatim; it was evident in all that she did for him.

He wasn’t upset, he was disarmed. There he had been, minding his own business, when the reminder of just how much she loved him and cared for him slapped him across the face. He needn’t ask the question why, especially because he knew the answer. But knowing the answer didn’t make the display any less surprising.

Tohru carefully side-stepped the piles of clothes, moving lightly on her tiptoes towards him, and wrapped her arms around his middle. He, in turn, wrapped his around her shoulders and brushed her hair with his lips. He couldn’t help it, he asked the question anyway.

“Why did you fix my gi?”

She pressed her chin against his chest, looking up at him with her wide, earnest eyes. “Because it’s your favorite one.” She answered simply, as if it had been obvious the whole time.

“I never said that,” he responded and she smiled at him.

“It was pretty obvious,” she mused. He raised his eyebrows waiting for her to continue. “You always reach for that one first,” she explained. “It’s certainly the softest and most broken in. Plus, it was a gift from Kunimitsu-san before our move. It’s special to you.”

And there it was. She was right, it was his favorite. It was the most comfortable. He didn’t attribute much to the fact that it was a gift, but her logic was sound. He was disarmed because, without saying a word, she told him ‘I get it. You love this. And because you love it and I love you, it’s precious to me. I’ll preserve it for you.’

She’d never have to speak the words ‘I love you’ if she didn’t want to. She said it to him in her gestures alone. She saw who he was at his core, appreciated it, and nurtured it so that it wouldn’t change. And as she did so, she reminded him you deserve this.

“Thank you,” he murmured, tucking a hand under her chin and tilting her head to meet her lips softly with his own. She beamed at him.

She returned her head to his chest, pressing her cheek against him until she could hear his heartbeat. “It’s a mess in here.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly. “I had to come in here and see what other girly patches you put all over my stuff.”

She pinched his back. “They’re not girly,” she insisted. “Besides, if you really never noticed until today that I’ve been fixing your clothes for four years, then you should be a little embarrassed,” she teased back.

“Lucky for you, your careful craftsmanship has made it so I never noticed.” He stepped back, retrieving the gi top from the bed and held it out for her. “But you’ve gotten sloppy. Damn heart was bothering me all day.”

She pinched the heart between her fingers, confirming that it was a bit more pronounced than some of her other patches. “You’re right,” she nodded, her face taking on a grave (although clearly exaggerated) expression. “Certainly a manly patch would not be so itchy.”

“Exactly,” he confirmed. He reached down and gathered the pile of clothes in his arms, sitting on the bed with them so he could refold them and put them away.

She planted a kiss on the top of his head before she turned to leave. “I’ll go make a very manly dinner to make up for it,” she said, grinning, and he rolled his eyes.

* * *

The following morning, he left for work, his bag already packed with his other favorite karategi and lunch he’d prepared the night before. He changed at the dojo, and, when met with the sound of snickers, quirked his eyebrows at the teen class before him.

“Nice heart, shihan,” one of the girls said, her palm covering her mouth.

Kyo craned his neck to look at his shoulder in the mirror and, sure enough, he was wearing the gi from yesterday, no doubt slipped into his bag by Tohru when he wasn’t looking. There, on his shoulder, was the hole with a new patch covering it. A small, pink heart in contrast with the black cotton.

He shook his head, the smile on his face betraying the annoyance he was trying to convey. “God dammit.”

#kyoruweek2020 #kyo sohma #tohru honda #kyoru

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