The apartment was quiet. Too silent.

Sae was used to silence, but this wasn’t normal—not when it came to you.

Normally, the faint hum of the TV or the sound of your laughter would greet him when he returned from practice. Sometimes it was music leaking faintly from your phone, or even just the kitchen light left on, signalling you were nearby—that you were home.

Today, it felt…hollow.

He dropped his bag by the door, frowning. The living room was dark. The TV was off. No dishes in the sink, no half-finished mug of tea abandoned on the counter like usual. The longer he stood there, the heavier the unease pressed against his chest.

Something was wrong.

He moved quickly, almost tripping over his cleats in his rush to the bedroom. His pulse ticked faster with every step, and when he pushed open the door, the sight made his heart clench.

You were curled beneath the blankets, face pale, hair sticking to your skin. The bedside table was messy—pill bottles half-capped, a glass of water left half-drunk, tissues scattered like you had given up trying to stay tidy. Your phone lay a few inches away, dark and untouched.

The sight hit him harder than he expected.

Sae wasn’t used to panic—wasn’t an emotion he let himself feel. On the field, he controlled everything, calculated every move. But here, with you, lying small and fragile against the sheets, his chest tightened in a way he couldn’t ease.

He imagined you waking up alone, too weak to reach for help, imagined you trying to drag yourself out of bed just to keep him from worrying. His thoughts were relentless, and for a terrifying second, he hated himself for not being home sooner.

“Damn it,” Sae muttered under his breath, moving to your side immediately. He knelt, brushing his hand against your forehead. The heat radiating from your skin made his stomach twist.

You stirred slightly from his touch, eyelashes fluttering before your eyes cracked open. Groggy, confused, you blinked at him. “Sae…? You’re back already…” Your voice was hoarse, a broken whisper.

His jaw clenched. “You should have called me.” The words came out sharp, but his hand lingered against your face, thumb brushing gently across your temple. “Or texted. Anything. Instead, I come home to this?”

You tried to smile faintly, guilt tugging at the corner of your lips. “Didn’t want to bother you. You had practice—“

“That’s not an excuse.” He cut you off, the edge in his tone more from worry than anger. He adjusted the blanket around your shoulders, tucking it snugly as if the fabric could chase away the fever. “What good is practice if I come home and you’re burning up in bed without anyone around to help you?”

You lowered your graze, throat tightening with the effort of swallowing. “I’m sorry…I thought I’d be fine. Just needed to rest.”

Sae exhaled slowly, forcing himself to soften. “You don’t have to handle everything alone, you know,” he murmured, fingers trailing lightly through your hair. “I’m here for a reason. Let me take care of you, idiot.”

Despite his scolding, Sae was already moving—grabbing a fresh glass of water, setting your medicine neatly, dampening a cloth with cool water from the bathroom. Every movement was precise, efficient, but laced with a quiet urgency he couldn’t hide. He pressed the cloth gently against your forehead, watching as your eyes fluttered shut at the relief.

“Better?” he asked softly.

You nodded weakly, the smallest smile tugging at your lips. “Better…thanks, Sae.”

His shoulders relaxed only by a fraction, teal eyes still sharp with worry. He sat at the edge of the bed, leaning down until his forehead rested briefly against yours. “Next time, call me. I don’t care if I’m in the middle of practice or across the damn world. Understand?”

You hummed softly, half-asleep again, and Sae sighed.

He pressed a fleeting kiss to your temple, lingering just long enough to let you feel it before pulling back. “Good. Because I’m not leaving your side until you’re okay.”

And he meant that.