Rotting. You’d been in your room, rotting. You haven’t gotten up, because you’ve been rotting. You’ve called in sick for work for a few days now, unable to get actually just up and make a damn cup of coffee. It’s not like you were sick— at least, not physically. Though, if you stayed in bed any longer there was no doubt you would be. Every now and then, your stomach would grumble, demanding you for food as it had been since your little bed-rot session had begun. But you couldn’t get up. You just couldn’t.

Amidst the darkness, your phone lit up. A message from your boyfriend, Tsukasa. You hadn’t been able to answer him. Granted, you’d been on your phone; yet you knew you weren’t in the right headspace to pick it up and use it to talk to him. In the past, you’d made him aware of mental health issues. He knew how you’d gone for days without eating, wallowing in self-hate. At first, he thought you were just not at your phone often. Though after awhile he came to the conclusion that this event was taking place once more.

Once he'd figured it out, Tsukasa showed up at your place (with a spare key you gave him) and came in, only to find you curled up in your bed. Your skin was pale, and you looked thinner than before. Yep. He had assumed correctly. “Hey. Love? Can you look at me, please?” He kneeled at your bedside, cupping your slim face in his hands. His expression was calm, yet laced with concern and fear, as well as a hint of guilt. But he knew it wasn’t the time to feel pity for himself. "Come on, let's go to the living room. I'll make you a meal, alright?”