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The shower tiles had been a lovely blue when you’d moved into this apartment. A nice routine kept them that soft blue color; protected from stains, scaling, and the other factors of life that could turn a once clean bathroom into a disgusting hovel. You were proud of how well maintained your bathroom was.
Today, the tiles look like a crime scene. The higher pressure setting does well to wash the looser stains from your skin, creating swirls of red that mix with the water on their way down the drain. When your arms feel stronger you’ll scrub the rest of it away, but right now you need the moment to rest. You were safe; the mission had been successful, albeit not without injury, you could afford to let your eyes close for a couple minutes.
Your body jolts at the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing, the briefest gust of cold air from the rest of the apartment sending a shiver down your spine. The shower water feels colder than what you’d set it to when you turned it on, made better by the hand that grasps the knob to turn the heat back up to something much more soothing to your exhausted muscles.
“Ieri said that, all things considered, you were relatively unharmed,” Nanami states, and you feel your eyes grow heavier as he steps into the shower with you. It’s nice that he gets the summary from Shoko to avoid making you explain the events multiple times over— you’re not sure your brain had the energy to form complex words at this point.
Nanami loved quietly, through his actions rather than his words. Talking to Shoko about your injuries so you wouldn’t have to relive the events after filling your report and being treated and letting you stand in the shower for extended periods of time and coming in to adjust the temperature to ensure it wasn’t too cold for you were just two examples of how he expressed his love through caring for you.
“Your habit of falling asleep in the shower should be studied,” he teases with a gentle tone, you hear the sound of his feet against the tiles before his presence warns your back. His hands are gentle on your skin, massaging your body wash into your back and shoulders where your arms were too tired to reach, then continuing down to your legs. “I’ve ordered dinner, it should arrive in about half an hour.”
“Thank you,” you mumble, allowing him to pull you into a more upright position so he could get a better look at you. His eyes look tired, indicative of a long day and you dare not ask if your mostly unknown status was a contributor to his own exhaustion. Those were conversations for after you'd both gotten some rest, not for the shower.
He catches you when your knees buckle, carefully easing you down to sit on the tile of your shower, keeping your body in the spray but tilting your head back towards him.
“It’s alright,” he assures, his hands working your shampoo into your hair with careful motions. Spots that may have tangled were carefully worked out, his nails carefully scratching your scalp with a care that almost eases you back to sleep. You comply with his instruction to tilt your head forward, allowing him to wash the shampoo from your hair and trying not to see the amount of grime that was being washed from your hair. Disgusting. You’d have to spend hours cleaning your bathroom after this.
“Thank you, Kento,” you mumble, resting your head against his shoulder and smiling when he kisses your head. “You got more of my conditioner?”
“I noticed it was empty while you were gone so I got more.” He’s working the conditioner into your hair, ensuring that no strand was left untouched by the scented product. “I noticed they came out with a new scent so I got that too. We can try that one next time.”
You choose not to comment on the use of we, because you know that he’ll make it a point to be nearby for the next few days. Not to the point where he’d be clingy or suffocating, he always knew where the limit was where your personal space was concerned, but he’d definitely be keeping an eye on you to make sure there were no complications with the minor injuries you did have – and he’d definitely be part of your next shower.
Again he has you lean forward to rinse the conditioner out, and you bring one of your hands up to try to help. You feel better, having sat in the shower and your hair being washed made you feel like a serious weight had been lifted. His hands don’t leave you as he helps you stand again, lending you his strength where you felt yours had been exhausted as he leads you out of the shower. There’s a comfortable silence between you as he dries your body, helps you dress, then sets to drying your hair after he’s dressed. Sat between his legs on the bed, the warmth and safety of his presence lulls you back to sleep with your head falling back against his shoulder.
“Rest well, dear,” he murmurs, settling back against the headboard to get his own rest. Everything else could wait until the morning.