Work Text:
Usually, Momo’s mind is going a million miles an hour. Not in the same way Okarun’s does–not all anxious theories that build and build upon themselves until they’ve formed a structure equal parts beautiful and precarious. No, if Okarun’s thought process is vertical, then Momo’s is horizontal, expansive: hopping from thought to thought until she’s covered miles.
Except right now, she’s thinking…nothing.
Momo frowns into her pillow. She knows that it’s time to get up for school. This should usually start a cavalcade of thoughts: what kind of make-up should she wear today; what does she want to pack for lunch; what does she want to say to Okarun when they meet each other at the gate? But each of those thoughts fizzles out as soon as it starts, leaving her confused and listless.
Well, then Momo will just open her eyes. You don’t need to be able to think to open your eyes, right?
She’s quickly proven wrong, however, as she looks into her bedroom and sees a bloom of auras so vibrant and green that they look ill. Everything has an aura–and while normally that’s fine, today they’re all so bright that they blend together, all of them dancing in her vision, vying for her attention. The green becomes a tidal wave that pierces through her brain fog like a dagger, and Momo squeezes her eyes shut, all too eager to go back to the Not Thinking.
Well. If she doesn’t go to school today, then she doesn’t have to open her eyes or think or any of that, so. Problem solved, she’ll just ditch school.
“Granny,” Momo calls out, but then she remembers that her gran is on a trip. Oh well. Means there’s no one to get mad at her for ditching school. Momo thinks that she’s probably sick right now, which means Granny wouldn’t be much of a help anyway, since she never believes Momo when she says she’s sick. Always says her aura should prevent that.
Well, now it’s aura that’s the problem. Too much of it. So, take that, Gran. Now she gets a sick day. Momo can watch a bunch of movies, and eat tons and tons of soup, and…whatever else it is that people do when they’re sick. She’s not sure, but it always seemed to Momo like it would be kind of fun to take a sick day, to have an excuse just to lay around the house. She should feel ecstatic about the prospect.
But instead she’s just…tired. Too tired to do anything but close her eyes and drift back to sleep. She drifts in and out of sleep for quite a while after that, though it’s difficult to say how long without opening her eyes. It’s not particularly restful sleep, filled with odd dreams that elude her memory, but it’s at least better than being awake.
Momo only knows that time passes because she has to go to the bathroom. She manages to get up and do it, but just barely. Usually taking a piss is something so simple and basic that Momo doesn’t even think about it. But now it seems like an impossible task with an innumerable amount of steps. She has to lift her legs over the edge of the bed, sit up, stand, walk to the toilet, lift the toilet seat up, sit down, stand back up again, wash her hands…
Okay, she doesn’t manage the washing her hands part. One too many steps. But it was just a piss and it’s not like there’s anyone here anyway.
At one point, Momo tries to watch a movie—using her last sliver of energy and determination to pick out a DVD and try to get some fun out of her sick day—but even that’s too complicated. While she’s managed to get somewhat used to the auras dancing around her room, the TV’s images and sounds don’t cooperate as nicely. Instead, they float in a shifting, pounding morass above Momo’s head that gives her a pressure headache, as if the TV’s emitting a thundercloud into her room.
So then Momo is sick and bored. It’s awful. She wants to do something, but she doesn’t know what. Her head is too full of fog to decide—and even if she could, she probably wouldn’t be able to do it anyway. So she’s just left to stare at the wall, drift in and out of restless sleep, and wait to see if she ever feels better again.
Momo practically cries when she hears the front door open, too exhausted and raw and confused to be anything but relieved that someone is here to do something. Even if it’s the mail carrier, even if it’s an attacking alien, surely that’s still better than the lame purgatory she’s stuck in now.
“Granny?” Momo mumbles hopefully, hearing steps echo up the stairs. Maybe Seiko divined that Momo was sick, decided to actually believe her this time, and cut her trip short to take care of her…
But the voice that greets her is Okarun’s, not Granny’s, and Momo wants to cry again. She loves Okarun, but Okarun is so loud and talks so much. And usually that’s great, because Momo loves to be loud and talk too, but right now Momo is sick with some weird aura thing, so his presence will be just like the TV where she got confused and overwhelmed and had to shut it off. She doesn’t want to shut off Okarun; that’s her boyfriend…
“Momo!” Okarun says, entering her room in a rush. “Are you okay? You weren’t at school today…”
“Sick,” Momo forces herself to say. There, done. Now that she’s explained, she can shut off Okarun, as sad as she is to do it. Momo pictures reaching out with her aura and pressing his forehead like a button, but it doesn’t do anything. She sighs. Even her aura is too tired to think.
If Okarun notices that he was just shut off, he doesn’t act any differently. He walks over to her and feels her forehead with his hand. Mmm, that feels kind of nice. Okay, maybe Momo doesn’t need to shut Okarun off after all.
“You don’t have a fever…” Okarun says, his brow furrowed. “Or a cough or anything. What’s wrong?”
Ugh, he’s going to make Momo say more words. But hell, as long as he’s here, maybe he can help. Okarun probably has better bedside manner than Granny anyway.
“I’m just tired,” Momo manages to say. “Auras are way too bright…The TV was too loud. I can’t do anything. I can’t even think. It’s so boring.”
“Kind of sounds like being overstimulated,” Okarun muses, but at least he starts petting her hair while he does it. “And you’ve expended so much aura lately, with all the fights we’ve had back to back…Momo-san, if you were feeling so bad, you should have…”
Okarun then thankfully stops himself, apparently realizing the futility of explaining overstimulation to an overstimulated person.
“I felt fine…” Momo mumbles, irritated. She’s been working hard lately to ask her friends for help when she needs it, and now her dumb boyfriend is asking her to do it more, while she can’t even think.
“I’m sure you did,” Okarun says hastily. And then, apparently medically unable to stop infodumping, “Overstimulation can come on very suddenly. Especially when you’re so busy-”
“Okarun.”
“What?”
“Shut up.”
“Okay,” he says, more quietly. Then he continues, though he’s thankfully schooled his voice into a whisper. “But, Momo. Before I stop talking, please let me know how I can help. Have you eaten today?”
Has she eaten today? Does Okarun not realize how many steps that would take under this new paradigm? She couldn’t even wash her hands after going to the bathroom!
Except…maybe Okarun does realize. Now that Okarun is talking about it–and forcing her to think actual thoughts, rather than sit trapped in her brain fog–Momo recalls him mentioning overstimulation before. It’s something Okarun rarely brings up, seeming to feel uncomfortable about it for some reason, but ever since then Momo has noticed when he starts wringing his hands or hiding behind the sheen of his glasses when their clubroom gets too loud.
If Okarun knows what this is like, then maybe he’ll know what to do. God knows that Momo doesn’t, other than to lie here and contemplate when she’ll have to go to the bathroom next.
“I haven’t eaten,” Momo admits.
“Do you want food?”
“Okarun,” Momo sighs, too exhausted to care about how whiny she sounds right now. “Please don’t make me tell you what to do. Just do something, okay? Anything. Whatever it is that helps you.”
Okarun looks startled, then abashed, but settles on a determined nod.
“Okay, Momo,” he says, as seriously as he’s ever spoken to her, and presses a kiss to her forehead before leaving the room.
Aw shoot, now he’s gone. Was it something she said? Maybe he finally got turned off after Momo pressed his forehead button, like a delayed reaction. Poor Okarun. Momo didn’t mean to turn him off. And now she misses him…
Momo mopes, but at least she can hear Okarun’s footsteps below, moving about the kitchen downstairs in a plodding rhythm. It’s almost enough to lull Momo back to sleep before the steps get louder again, Okarun coming back up the stairs and into her room with a warm bowl of rice and leftover beef. It smells nice, mild and slightly sweet. For most of the day, Momo had felt nauseous at the thought of eating, but maybe that’s because she kept imagining decadent seafood instead of something easier on the stomach. Whoops.
“Here,” Okarun says, pulling up a chair next to her bed. He’s being better about regulating his voice now, pitching it softly enough that it doesn’t hurt. “You just have to sit up. I’ll do the rest.”
Oh. Momo can sit up. Sitting up is easy; she does it all the time. Momo does so, Okarun gives her an encouraging nod, and then he holds a spoonful of rice up to her mouth for her to eat. Momo blushes, but eats it–a bit awkwardly, because she’s never been fed by anyone but her gran, and she doesn’t know how much force to use or how to chew without leaving Okarun’s hand awkwardly hanging there. Ugh. Feeding each other is supposed to be cute, romantic, and Momo is too sick to even do it properly!
“Maybe you do have a fever…” Okarun murmurs, placing another hand to her forehead. “You look a bit flushed, Momo.”
“M-maybe…” Momo mumbles around another mouthful of curry. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry about that?”
“This isn’t romantic at all,” Momo sighs. This point is only emphasized by Okarun dabbing at her chin with a napkin to catch a stray grain of rice.
“O-of course it isn’t? You’re sick,” Okarun says, folding the napkin up and putting it aside. “Am I supposed to be making this romantic…?” He sits up straight, as if suddenly remembering he’s not supposed to be asking her for direction. “R-right! I’ll, uh, I’ll go run you a bath? That always helps me.”
She hears his footsteps again, but at least this time they stay closer. Momo hears the run of water and thinks huh, I have to go to the bathroom again, so she manages to stand up on her own, go to the bathroom, and then…
Okarun is there.
“I need to pee,” she says.
“Oh! Okay,” Okarun says, quickly exiting the room, closing the door behind him. “Let me know when you’re done.”
It…honestly takes longer than it should. Apparently the sensory overload Momo is experiencing also extends to her bladder, and it takes her a moment to coach herself through the release of those muscles. By the time she opens the door–she doesn’t wash her hands again, but Okarun doesn’t have to know that, right?--the water in the tub is a bit too full, and Okarun has to rush to stop it before it overflows.
“I’m sorry,” Momo mutters as she watches him futz around.
“For what?” Okarun asks again, rolling up his sleeve to test the temperature of the water. He drops in one of Momo’s bath bombs, and Momo wonders how he knew where it was. It fills the room with lavender and mint, the steam carrying the scents and making Momo’s head feel just a bit lighter.
“Uh,” Momo says, suddenly embarrassed, but also feeling too fuzzy to stop talking about how embarrassed she is. “For needing this much help, I guess. I’m usually fine, but today is just…weird, and I guess I’m worried that you’ll think I’m lame,” she finishes…lamely.
“Do you think I’m lame when I need help?” Okarun asks patiently.
Momo thinks about it. It’s very difficult, given her current condition. She doesn’t, most of the time. Though, Okarun does occasionally need help for some very lame reasons. But Momo still likes helping him. She likes that Okarun is lame. It’s what makes him cool.
God, Momo hopes she comes up with something better to say whenever she gets the rest of her brain back. From the twitch in Okarun’s eyebrow, it looks like she might need to.
For now, though, Okarun just takes a deep breath and says, “Well, I don’t think you’re lame, Momo. Everyone has weird days. I have them all the time…So, if I can repay the favor, then of course I’m going to do it.”
“I don’t think you’re lame,” Momo says, reaching out to hold his hand.
Okarun gives her a genuine smile. “I’m glad. I’ll leave so that you can have a bath, Momo. Maybe make you some tea?”
“Wait!” Momo blurts out. She knows that she was just super rude to him but–as lovely and warm as the tub looks, Momo is suddenly overwhelmed with how bored and lonely she would be in it by herself, with just her sluggish thoughts for company again. “Can you stay?”
“M-Momo, you’d be naked…” Okarun says, his face turning beet red. “It would be improper…”
“But you could turn around, right?” Momo asks. “I’m sick, you know. I could fall asleep in the tub and drown!”
Whether or not that’s actually a rational argument, Momo has no idea. But Okarun sighs and relents, turning around to face the wall. Unfortunately, that also means that Momo has to undress by herself. She decides to sit down to do it, so that she can slowly peel her pants off one leg at a time, and not have to worry about keeping her balance while she pulls her shirt over her head. It’s an ungodly amount of effort, and if Momo were by herself, she would’ve already given up and gone back to bed. But Okarun put all this effort into drawing her a bath, so Momo is going to take it, damn it. She has to salvage what romance is left in this stupid situation!
At long last, Momo lifts her body into the tub, almost moaning from how good it feels. In the hot water, thinking doesn’t feel as urgent or as necessary, and the steam replaces the fog in her head. Nobody is supposed to think in the tub, after all. Instead, her sluggish thoughts; the sting of aura against her eyes; the prickling, numb sensation where her power should be–they’re all suspended, floating peacefully in the water alongside her. The bathroom is quiet save for the lap of water against the sides of the tub and Okarun’s steady breathing.
“This is so much better,” Momo sighs. “Thank you, Okarun.”
Okarun doesn’t say anything and his eyes never leave the wall, but he does bravely–if hesitantly–sit down and scoot backward until his back meets the tub. Momo can see him biting his lip out of the corner of her eye, and he leaves his hand on the edge of the tub.
“If you want to hold it…” Okarun murmurs, giving her exactly what she wants without her asking, even though it’s not in his nature.
Momo grabs onto the hand, getting it wet and probably soaking his shirt sleeve as well. And then, she’s not sure what to do. While being cared for by Okarun had been an occasional, vague fantasy of hers, she feels weirdly vulnerable now that it’s actually happening. She feels like she should be doing something in response, but the part of her that acts and takes action is slow right now, almost as slow as her thoughts.
“You want something else…” Okarun realizes beside her. He sighs. “I’m sorry, Momo. I did my best but…I don’t know what it is unless you say it. But you don’t have to. We can just keep sitting here.”
He runs a thumb along her hand, and she realizes that she wants that. She wants more of Okarun touching her, his touches setting a gentle rhythm that her mind can then follow. But she doesn’t know how to get that now that she’s naked and in the tub.
“Would you wash my hair?” Momo wonders.
“How would I do that without seeing you?” Okarun asks, strangled.
“I dunno…” she groans. Fuck, neither of them had thought this far ahead. Okarun has short hair, so he’d probably never considered it as that much of an extra chore, when he’s done this for himself.
“Let me think,” Okarun says, and he squeezes her hand and thinks while Momo yawns and closes her eyes beside him. She’s not sure whether she’s dozed off again when she feels a trickle of water onto her head. Momo cracks an eye open to find Okarun kneeling above her, slowly pouring water out of a cup onto her head while he resolutely stares at the tile walls.
“This would be easier if you dunked your head under,” Okarun says, but he doesn’t stop, just continuing to carefully pour water onto Momo’s hair until it’s wet, scrubbing some shampoo into it–and nearly getting some both in their eyes as a result of doing it blind–and then repeating the process to wash the soap out. It’s an inefficient and messy process, and the water is cool and his shirt is soaked by the time they’ve finished. If Momo had been thinking clearly, she probably could have thought of an easier way to do this. But Momo feels oddly at peace watching Okarun take the most inconvenient route, just so that he can please her, and for the first time today she feels completely comfortable with him taking care of her.
“I’m cold,” Momo finally says, when the last of the heat has leached out of the tub.
“Then let’s get you back to bed.”
“Okay.” Momo sits there for a long moment. Thinks about the number of steps it would take to get out of the tub, dry herself off, find new clothes, put on the clothes…“Okarun…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m stuck.”
“Y-yeah, that makes sense. I’ll be right back.”
Okarun returns with some fresh clothes. No underwear, but she supposes it’d be too much to ask him to go digging through that drawer. He throws an extra towel on the ground so she can dry off while sitting down. He also waves a bag of chips as an incentive, like Momo is a dog or Turbo Granny or something else equally as food motivated.
…She does kind of want those chips though, so Momo gets out of the bath and sits on the towel. Once again, Okarun stares determinedly at the wall while he works, toweling down the parts of her that are appropriate for him to touch. His ministrations are gentle and firm, and Momo almost feels like she’s getting rocked back to sleep. It doesn’t get her completely dry, but she doesn’t mind. The cool air against the damp parts of her skin is like a balm. Like Okarun’s touch, it’s gentle enough not to overwhelm, but firm enough to nudge her toward alertness, to ready her thoughts for their next journey from place to place, when Momo feels rested enough to have them again.
Okarun won’t put her clothes on her though. That, she still has to do herself, with a decent amount of undignified grunting that Okarun thankfully doesn’t comment upon.
Momo doesn’t quite keep track of time for it all, losing bits of it in between Okarun’s touches and the sound of water swirling down the drain. She doesn’t think it’s long, though, until she collapses back into her bed, the chips clutched to her chest. The plastic of the chip bag crinkles like a chorus welcoming back home: You came back to us, Momo. You did it. It was so brave, the way you took a bath like that.
“Thank you, chips,” Momo mumbles.
Okarun sighs, but doesn’t comment. When she glances over at him, she sees that he’s smiling at her.
“What?” she asks.
“Nothing,” Okarun says. “I just…care about you, Momo.”
“I care about you too,” Momo says, sniffling through a mouthful of chips. Shoot, she thanked the chips but not Okarun. Sure, the chips deserve it, but so does he. He got Momo fed and cleaned, when she hadn’t even been able to wash her hands by herself…
Oh wait.
“Okarun,” Momo says, yawning. “You should use your hand sanitizer.”
“But you’re not actually sick,” Okarun says, though he obligingly gets it out of his bag and squirts some on his hands. He offers her some too, and she accepts. “You’re not contagious, right?”
“Yeah,” Momo says. “But, um…”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I’m sick. And tired. So…”
“So?”
“So, I forgot to wash my hands after I went to the bathroom."
Evidently, that’s not what Okarun was expecting her to say. His eyes widen and he nearly yells—only managing to school his voice into a strangled whisper at the last moment—when he cries out, “M-Momo!”
“I know,” Momo says, though her jaw nearly cracks in half with a yawn again, which doesn’t help her sound sincere, even though she is. She’ll do better when she has thoughts again. “I’m sorry.”
Okarun shakes his head. “Don’t…don’t worry about it. Here, you can just keep this, okay?”
Okarun gives her the bottle of hand sanitizer. It’s the one that he keeps clipped onto his backpack in a little green case with a keyring on it. Momo clutches it to her chest along with the bag of chips.
“Go to sleep, Momo,” Okarun murmurs, laying his head down on the bed beside her. “I’ll be here.”
Momo means to say something in response: like okay or thank you or I’m sorry I got pee germs on your hands or I love you. But she’s feeling so warm from the bath and Okarun’s care that she falls into a true, deep sleep before she can do so. But that’s okay. Okarun said that he’ll be there when she wakes up, so she can tell him all those things then.