"Hhhmmmm." Shuichi let out another painful moan as his stomach got upset. He tried ignoring it throughout work that day, but it only got worse. He still made it through all nine hours at the studio, though; he knew he couldn't miss a single second of work, since they had an upcoming concert, a new album to finish, and a meeting with a possible sponsor for their band. Knowing this, he tried his best to function throughout the day through waves of sickening nausea, which was incredibly hard to do, especially without acting like you were sick, which is why Shuichi had a miserable frown on his face the whole day. The stress of it all was really piling on and his anxiety was on full blast, waiting to give him a breakdown at any possible moment. On top of that, he was as mood swingy as ever when he couldn't find his music folder in the morning, which left him in a shitty mood all day.

"What are you whining about?" Yuki muttered blatantly, walking out of his study and into the kitchen. "I can hear you from in there."

"I'm sorry, Yuki. It's just that my stomach hurts really bad and it's not going away."

"Maybe you should try something called medicine." He lit a cigarette nonchalantly.

"I did, asshole," Shuichi snapped, sighing and whimpering a little. He was still mad about something Fujisaki said a few hours ago that was all smart-assy and he had to bite his lip to keep from slapping him. And so, we have an angry, sick Shuichi: a perfect recipe for disaster.

He groaned as another wave of pain hit him. Yuki sighed. Without a word he picked up Shuichi and walked into the other room, dropping him onto the couch with a thud! "Ow! Yuki…"

"Stay in here so I dont have to hear you whining." With that, he walked off and back into his office. Shuichi let out a sigh, recounting everything that had gone wrong that day: from messing up his lyrics to getting chewed out by a nerve wracked sakano and getting snarky commentary from Hiro; he knew he didn't mean it, but it still bothered him, as he was a little sensitive. His feelings started turning over and over as he worried about everything that still had to be done; this made his guts squeeze yet again and before long he was running to the bathroom to throw up.

It was really painful and long, with barely any time to breathe before more pressure came and made him go at it again. He raised his head from the toilet bowl and gasped for air, his whole body trembling. He still felt woozy and suddenly a lot weaker. He fell to the tile floor, on hands and knees, before collapsing and curling up into a ball, sobbing his eyes out.

He was like that for quite a while until Yuki came in to take a shower: he saw him on the floor, facing towards the door. He was curled up helplessly, whimpering and shaking in pain as tears rolled down his face. Yuki softened. The poor kid was so stressed out. Despite his childish demeanor, he really put a lot of pressure on himself and worked his ass off, more than most people gave him credit for. He was still just a kid and already had so much going on in his life: his stormy relationship, his albums, concerts, other gigs and a lot of responsibility. His dreams were so big and he was going so fast, trying to be who he wants to be while also pleasing everyone else, it was no wonder he was drop dead tired after work every day. And all this was exacerbated by his nonexistence of emotional stability nor rationality. He couldn't help it: he was still immature for his age, especially with his rapid escapade into the music world at the tender age of 19.

Yuki saw him, so helpless, so exhausted, lying on the floor of the bathroom, and really felt for him. He walked over to Shuichi, who was sobbing. He picked him up in his arms, slowly and gently, which Shuichi gladly allowed, and carried him to his own- no, their own- bedroom.

Despite his tear-stained, snotty face, he was still cute; his ragged little mop of hair was always tousled and never quite tamed, no matter how much he brushed it. Yuki cradled his sweet head in one hand and smiled; it's so soft, he thought. He laid him down gently on the bed, laying the covers on him gently and lied down facing him. He brushed a hand through his lover's pink bangs that obscured his eyes, revealing his tear-stained, reddening face. He was still sobbing, biting on his bottom lip and his eyes were shut tight as he clutched his stomach like his little life depended on it.

"Shh," Yuki whispered softly, grazing a tender hand down his cheek. He loved this young man's face; full cheeks, glimmering eyes, a distinctive nose, and those cute little lips of his that were just begging to be kissed. All the more, it made something inside him move a little to see him cry like this, that beautiful face twisted up in so much pain; something that he hadn't felt move in a long time.

It had been so long that he simply thought it didn't exist anymore; that it never did in the first place. It was only now that he realized how much love he held in his heart: how much he wanted, needed this little twit of a man right before him. And that realization is what scared him the most.

"Hey, Shuichi, it's okay." He opened his eyes in response to Yuki's words, but he could barely muster up any show of gratitude through his unbearable state of pain, physical and emotional. Yuki felt his cold heart squeeze painfully as Shuichi continued to cry and shiver. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man, pulling him as close to him as he could, trying to give him warmth and comfort.

"Shh, shh, it's okay…" he whispered, stroking Shuichi's hair, trying to soothe him. After a while, his sobs slowed down a little as some of the pain eased. Yuki let go of him and pulled away.

"Do you want me to go get you anything? Advil? Gas X?"

"Both," he said, still shaking and with his arms now wrapped tightly around his middle.

Yuki went to go get them both. He didn't work any more that afternoon, instead caring for Shuichi in ways Shuichi never thought possible. Not only did he hug him and offer to get him medicine, but stayed by his side till night fall, holding him, gently rubbing his back, kissing him. Yuki even let him stay in his—no, their bed, that night. Before long, shuichi's eyes felt heavy and he fell into sleep. But before he did, he heard Yuki whisper something that he was sure he didn't mean Shuichi to hear: "Shuichi….you don't know how much I love you." Shuichi smiled tenderly at the soft, fragile breath of speech made by this man he loved so much; it was so small, so quiet, it felt like those small, precious words might disappear in the blink of an eye, and then he'd question if they were ever spoken at all. He Was so worried he was going to lose those few, precious words, so he kept turning them over and over in his head as he fell asleep, memorizing them, playing them in his head until they didn't even sound like words anymore, but instead sounded like foreign sounds, trying to bind them deep into his memory, so they

wouldn't get lost. Just a whisper; a small sound, formed by a small exhalation of air and movements of the lips. And yet it meant so much to him.