Calling In
I used to think that men who took too much time off work were pitiful. Either they were too weak to bother with the work themselves or worse, they were in the thrall of someone who was. I thought that, for myself, I could never condone such actions. It never occurred to me that Sakae hadn't been seriously sick once since moving in.
It was embarrassing, calling my superior and letting him know that I couldn't come in for the next few days, but it was worse thinking of Sakae laying at home, feverish and bedridden, so I did it. There were no comments or questions of me. There was only a quiet admonishment to return as soon as possible, so that I didn't fall very far behind. And I fully agreed. But as I replaced the phone in its cradle and moved to linger in Sakae's doorway, watching the sleeping man, I realized that 'as soon as possible' did not mean 'before he's well'.
I doubt he even knows I'm here, as I sponge the sweat off his face with a damp cloth. He seems half out of it, murmuring words I can't quite catch and clinging to my sleeve every time he feels me close. I haven't told Kazuki about Sakae just yet. I know I should - he'll probably be furious that I'm keeping this to myself, but I have so little, and the few words of hope that either of them have offered have been squashed by reality. My hand lifts, fingering through Sakae's bangs as I wonder what it would have been like, giving into that simple request he'd had. Or better still, offering myself before Kazuki had taken the opportunity.
Funny, that, even now, I don't know whose arms wrap around me from behind when I'm dreaming of being held.