It's 2 a.m. on a weeknight and Naoki is wide-awake. Which, with his current class schedule and trying to catch up in med school, hasn't exactly been a rare occurrence lately. Tonight though, his heavy medical tomes are tucked away in his bag and the computer screen is pitch black. It's not his schooling preoccupying his mind, it's his wife.
He's rubbing circles over her shoulder with his fingertips, his arm keeping her tucked tightly to his chest. Her warm breath tickles over his slightly exposed collar bone with each exhale. She's sleeping peacefully with her lips parted slightly, probably drooling on his pajama top. Exactly where she should be.
Jealousy. That's what Ikezawa had called the feeling that snaked around his lungs and constricted until it felt uncomfortable to breathe. He'd felt it before, thanks to the man who'd explained it to him, but this time it was stronger, more unbearable. He'd written it off at first as his intense dislike for that Kamogari bastard, but he recognizes now that jealously was a secondary emotion. The intense, heart stopping feeling interwoven with that jealousy was fear.
He shifts slightly, turning to his side, careful not to shift the arm underneath Kotoko too much to avoid waking her. It's probably unnecessary considering she's not exactly a light sleeper but recent events have him operating with caution. He rolls his eyes when the cool air hits the newly exposed fabric of his shirt and he discovers she had indeed been drooling on him. Once he's comfortable he looks at her, studying the slope of her nose, the curve of her lips, the small expanse of skin visible above the ruffles of her scoop necked pajama top. She's beautiful. He loves her. So much that the idea of living without her is unthinkable. Yet, he'd told her to go. With Kamogari Keita. Idiot.
He obviously hadn't meant it, but the frustration of seeing her with another man who was clearly in love with her made him irrational. He hates that side of himself, the one that lashes out at Kotoko because anyone who knows her comes to see all the things that make her special, all the things that make him love her. He's sure if anyone else looked at the situation they would say he's being unfair, and he is. He knows that. Girls fall all over themselves to get to him, but their reasoning is fundamentally different than the men who pursue Kotoko. Like Sahoko, who was taken aback by his mean streak, the girls who want him want the idea of him. The handsome, genius, son of a successful business man, soon-to-be doctor Irie Naoki, not the moody, unexpressive, short-tempered, romantically-stunted Irie Naoki. They want what he can give to them. The men who want Kotoko want her. Clumsy, scatter-brained, impetuous, loving, sweet, damn near perfect Kotoko. They want to give her the world on a silver platter and he honestly can't blame them.
The fear he'd been feeling before is because he understands with perfect clarity now how lucky he is that she, for some unknowable reason, is so ridiculously in love with him. If she was an ounce less head-strong, one iota less sure of her affection for him, he may have already lost her. The thought had made his blood turn to ice in his veins and for all he was confident in front of Kamogari, he was terrified every time he saw them together that, at some point, Kotoko would recognize his short-comings. When she'd finally snapped at him, throwing whatever was in reach in his direction and storming out, he was sure that was it. He'd ruined everything and lost her. Served him right, he'd figured.
He'd resigned himself to hoping that she'd at least come back to pack her things while he was home so he could try to explain himself when the phone rang with Mr. Aihara at the other end. His hope was renewed then. He was still her husband and he wouldn't let her go so easily. One slightly embarrassing cafeteria speech later and she's back in their bed and the tightness in his chest is gone.
He tucks some stray hair behind her ear and smiles at her still sleeping face. He silently resolves to make sure that she doesn't doubt his love for her because, embarrassing or not, he'd meant what he'd said in the cafeteria. Somewhere between the rejected love letter (which he now keeps tucked away in one of his text books) and the moment he thought he'd lost her their relationship had inverted and in turn, his entire world was flipped upside down. She wants him, but he needs her. He can't imagine a life without her anymore and he never intends to find out what it would be like.