One Saturday morning, Hina texted Yuto and asked if he would like to catch a movie together.
Hina:Want to catch a movie later? My treat if you're free.
A few minutes later, the reply came.
Yuto:I'm sorry, Hina. I'm not feeling great. I'll probably just rest at home today. Don't worry too much.
Hina:Okay… Get some rest. Let me know if you need anything.
The message was marked as delivered. But it stayed unread. No reply came.
Minutes passed. Then an hour. Her fingers hovered over the screen, rereading both messages. The longer the silence stretched, the more her chest tightened. She couldn't focus on anything else.
Eventually, she stood at the edge of the living room, where Emi sat reading with a cup of tea, and Ren was flipping through documents in silence.
"Papa. Mama."
They both looked up.
Hina stepped forward, her voice gentle but determined. "Yuto's running a high fever. He hasn't replied in a while, and… I want to check on him."
Emi straightened slightly. "Of course. Do you want me to go with you?"
She shook her head. "No, I think I can handle it on my own."
There was a pause before she added, "I'd also like to stay the night just to make sure he's okay. I don't want to leave him alone while he's like this."
Emi and Ren exchanged a brief glance. Then Emi smiled, soft and knowing. "All right. Bring him something warm to eat. He always refuses to eat unless someone nags him."
Ren gave a subtle nod, barely looking up from his file. "Let us know if you need anything."
"I will," Hina said, bowing her head slightly. "Thank you."
A short while later, with a packed bag, Hina slipped out the door into the fading light of evening.
Hina then realized it was her first time at Yuto's apartment. All this while, he had always been the one coming to her place. He never once invited her over, even though he had shared his door password with her.
*****
The door clicked open with a soft creak, and she stepped inside.
It was spacious, minimalist, neat, warm in a quiet way. Bookshelves lined one wall, and martial arts gear was neatly tucked in a corner. His scent lingered in the air: clean, fresh, with a trace of cedar and something uniquely him.
She found Yuto lying on the couch, an arm draped over his forehead, his skin flushed with fever.
"Yuto…"
He stirred at her voice, eyes fluttering open. "Hina…?"
She rushed to his side, placing a hand on his forehead.
"You're burning up," she whispered. "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"
He gave a weak smile. "Didn't want to worry you."
"Well, too late."
She helped him sit up, took his temperature, then moved to the kitchen. Within minutes, she had a small pot of porridge simmering and cold towels ready. She fed him gently, coaxing him with soft words, then gave him the medicine.
Not long after, the medication kicked in.
Yuto fell into a light sleep, and soon, sweat began to bead along his forehead and collarbone. Hina dabbed his face with worry returning.
"You'll catch a cold if you stay in those clothes," she muttered, more to herself.
She shook him gently. "Yuto, you're sweating a lot. You should shower and change, okay?"
He nodded sluggishly, sitting up. "Yeah… give me a sec."
He disappeared into the bathroom while Hina busied herself with tidying the dishes and folding the blanket on the couch.
When the door opened minutes later, Yuto stepped out with nothing but a towel around his waist, water still trailing down his chest, hair damp and tousled.
Hina turned and froze. Her breath hitched.
His torso was lean, strong, well-defined, and glistening slightly with the leftover heat from the shower. Muscles rippled beneath his skin with every movement and the sharp lines of his abdomen unmistakable.
Her face turned scarlet in an instant as she spun away, eyes wide. "C-Can you please wear something?!"
Yuto blinked, then realized. "…Ah. Sorry."
He chuckled, clearly amused, and walked toward his bedroom.
"You're… seriously built," she muttered under her breath, still not looking his way.
He paused in the hallway, smirking just a little. "I trained. For emergencies."
"This was not an emergency I was ready for," she whispered, hands over her flaming cheeks.
He disappeared into his room, and Hina fanned herself with a dish towel.
When did he grow up this much? Why does he look like he belongs in a movie?
Why am I thinking about this?!
When Yuto returned, fully dressed in a hoodie and joggers, she was seated on the edge of the couch, hugging a cushion tightly.
"Still red," he teased gently, settling beside her.
"Still recovering," she shot back, glaring into the fabric.
He smiled and reached over, brushing a knuckle along her cheek.
"You came all the way here for me."
"You'd do the same," she murmured, finally glancing at him.
His voice dropped. "Always."
Their eyes met and Yuto leaned in. Hina didn't move. Their lips met and the kiss was warm and comforting. When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his.
"Next time," she whispered, "just tell me when you're sick. I don't need permission to worry."
He smiled. "Okay. Just… maybe bring more porridge."
She laughed, and in that simple moment, she felt it. It was not just love but she also felt home.
During the evening, Yuto's fever had finally broken.
Yuto lay on the bed, his breathing steadier, though a faint flush still lingered on his cheeks. Hina had dimmed the lights in the room and went to have a quick shower. She came out of the bathroom in her sleepwear, an oversized T-shirt and soft cotton shorts. She paused at the edge of his bed.
Yuto stirred at the sound of her footsteps. "You're staying…?"
She smiled, brushing her hair back. "I told you I would."
"But…" he sat up slightly, concern flickering in his tired eyes. "Is it really okay? You're staying overnight. At my place."
Hina nodded gently. "I asked my parents. They know. It's fine."
His shoulders relaxed, but he still looked uncertain like he couldn't quite believe she was here.
She walked over to the other side of the bed and slowly climbed in beside him.
"I just want to be close to you and make sure you are fine," she whispered.
Yuto turned toward her, voice low. "You already are."
Then, quietly, Hina reached out and wrapped her arms around him, her head resting against his chest.
Yuto stiffened just slightly.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, suddenly shy. "Am I… making you uncomfortable?"
Yuto exhaled and gently wrapped his arms around her in return, pulling her closer.
"No," he murmured. "You're making me feel like I'm finally home."
Her heart thudded at his words, her cheeks warming. She pressed closer, her fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt.
He shifted slightly, his hand sliding up to her back in a slow, grounding motion. Their legs tangled beneath the sheets. Her bare thigh brushed against his, and the contact sparked a jolt of awareness between them.
"Hina…" he said softly, his voice barely a breath.
She looked up, and in that moment, their eyes met and filled with something unspoken.
Slowly, he leaned in.
Their lips met and his hand cupping her cheek as she responded, breath hitching softly against his mouth.
The kiss lingered, long and breathless, until they both pulled back, eyes slightly dazed.
"I… I should let you rest," she whispered, flustered, her cheeks flaming.
Yuto gave a faint, crooked smile. "It's tough with you just by my side. I cannot stop kissing you."
She laughed softly, burying her face in his shoulder. "Shut up."
He rested his chin lightly on her head. "Alright. I will not tease you anymore. Just stay with me. Just like this."
And so they lay there, in each other's arms. The night passed slowly and quietly. Yuto's fever didn't return. He slept with one arm loosely around Hina, his breathing soft and even. And though she woke once or twice during the night just to check on him, she always found herself tucked right back into his warmth.
When the sun began to stream through the blinds, Hina stirred first.
She blinked up at the ceiling, the events of the night before washing over her in waves—his flushed face, the porridge, the towel (oh god, the towel), the kiss, the way he held her throughout the night.
She turned carefully and found him already awake, watching her with a faint, sleepy smile.
"Morning," he murmured, voice low and husky.
She flushed a little. "You're awake?"
"Didn't want to miss this."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the smile that curled across her lips.
"Feeling better?"
"Much," he said. "Might be 30% you, 70% medicine. But I'll let you believe it's the other way around."
She smacked his shoulder lightly. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm still sick," he said, grinning. "Be gentle with me."
"Get up and brush your teeth, drama king."
A few minutes later, they stood side by side at the bathroom sink, both in home clothes, messy hair and brushing their teeth in quiet harmony.
Hina had tied her hair up into a loose bun, and Yuto's damp bangs were pushed back from the light rinse he'd splashed on his face.
Yuto leaned sideways mid-brushing, bumping her shoulder gently.
Hina nudged him back with her elbow.
"You hog the sink," she mumbled through a mouthful of foam.
"You're just small," he replied, his voice muffled as he spoke around his toothbrush.
She narrowed her eyes at him in the mirror and leaned closer, squinting.
"What?"
"You got toothpaste on your nose."
He paused, blinking. "Where?"
She reached up and wiped it with her thumb. "Right there."
He grinned around his toothbrush, mouth still full of foam. "Thanks, Nurse Kazama."
"You're lucky you're cute when you're sick."
They spit and rinsed at the same time, both reaching for the same hand towel and laughing when their fingers tangled.
Yuto let her take it first, drying her face, then leaned over her shoulder from behind and kissed the top of her head.
"You know," he said softly, "this… brushing our teeth together like this… it feels way too natural."
Hina turned slightly, meeting his gaze in the mirror. "That's because it is."
They stood there for a moment longer, smiling at each other through the mirror.
After brushing their teeth and finishing the last of their quiet laughter, Yuto tugged on a hoodie while Hina padded barefoot into the kitchen.
"I'll make breakfast," she said, opening his fridge. "You have eggs, rice… and way too much kimchi."
Yuto leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her like she was the only thing in the world worth seeing.
"Don't fall in love with me just because I can cook," she teased without looking back.
"Too late."
As the rice cooker hummed to life and the scent of garlic and sesame filled the air, Hina's phone buzzed on the counter.
She glanced at the screen.
Emi: Morning, sweetheart. Hope Yuto is feeling better. Did he take his medicine? Did he eat?
Hina smiled softly, her thumbs tapping a reply.
Hina: Yes, medicine and food, both done. I even made him porridge last night. He's still acting like he's sick though…
Another buzz came almost instantly.
Emi: Of course he is. He likes it when you fuss over him. I should've known even his fever would be a little dramatic.
Hina: He's lucky he's cute.
Emi: So are you. And I'm glad you stayed. He always heals faster with you around.
Hina paused and was touched. The simple truth in that message made her chest swell.
Behind her, Yuto wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"Who's texting you?"
"Your mom's best friend."
"Oh," he said, pausing. "So… basically my second mom?"
She tilted her head toward him. "Exactly. And she says you're dramatic."
He grinned. "She's not wrong."
Hina rolled her eyes and turned slightly in his arms. "You should be thankful I stayed."
"I am," he said easily. "Very thankful."
Then, after a beat, he added, "But if staying over means I get to wake up to this… I might have to fall sick more often."
Her cheeks flushed immediately. "Yuto—!"
"I'm joking," he chuckled, leaning in. "Mostly."
She swatted his chest with a dish towel, lips twitching. "You're impossible."
He caught her wrist gently, holding it between them as he looked down at her and his smile fading into something softer.
"I mean it, though," he said, quieter now. "Waking up with you here… it felt really good."
She looked up at him, heart stuttering in her chest. "It felt right."
He leaned in and kissed her forehead.
Then her nose.
Then, slowly—her lips.
It was soft and unhurried, full of the quiet sweetness that only comes after shared silence and sleepy mornings. Her fingers curled into the front of his hoodie, his hands resting gently at her waist.
When they pulled apart, she whispered, "If you fall sick again, I'll still come running."
Yuto smiled. "Even if I'm faking it?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Try me."
He laughed and the sound filled the kitchen like sunshine.