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Toji rarely sleeps through the night. And, as a consequence, neither does Megumi.Short, fitful bursts that leave him more exhausted than if he stayed awake, coming to groggy and disoriented. Pulled from his nonsensical dreams by Toji’s nightmares, by accidents and soaked bed sheets, by smashed glass and frightened tears. There’s no reprieve, but Megumi will never complain—he loves his dad. He refuses to let anyone else take care of him.Tonight, it’s violent retching that wakes him. Megumi shoots upright, a fist of worry wrapped tight around his heart. It leaves him lightheaded, dizzy. He searches the dim room for any sign of entry, for an intruder, always thinking the worst. The panic only melts away once he flings an arm out and grasps Toji’s shoulder, trembling but solid, safe. Dad is safe.Megumi flicks his bedside lamp on and rounds the bed, kneeling at Toji’s side. His sippy cup is upturned and empty, the water Megumi filled it with hours before now seeping into the carpet and the knee of his pyjamas.“Oh, Dad,” Megumi sighs, pulling a corner of the sodden duvet up to wipe Toji’s spit-slick chin. “Did you drink too fast? Were you laying down? I told you, you have to sit up if you want water! You’re lucky you didn’t drown.” He tuts.Toji grumbles in response, turning away from Megumi’s hand. It’s not until he kicks his feet in annoyance that Megumi smells urine, strong and sharp in his nostrils. He presses his palms to his eyes until they ache, and quietly groans. It’s not his fault, it’s not his fault. The chances of Megumi falling back to sleep and ignoring the mess are low, but they’re not zero. He’s tired.The sheets will stain if he leaves it too long.When Megumi reaches for Toji again, he grunts, forehead narrowly missing Megumi’s chin as he lunges forward. He grabs Megumi’s wrist, squeezes his fragile bones until they creak, and pants, eyes frantic. Megumi holds his breath as to not move, terrified of startling Toji further.He makes a soft, encouraging sound when Toji’s grip loosens, smiling wide. “Thank you. You’re safe, see?”But then Toji notices the damp bed, his wet pyjamas. Before he can fuss—his nose is already scrunching up, he’s already shaking his head—Megumi tugs him up to stand, a hand on his forearm, the other around his waist. He sways them, leads them to the bathroom, eyes on Toji’s. It breaks his heart to see the distress in them, to feel the tension in his body.Bathtime is never easy. Megumi doesn’t know the gritty details, has never wanted to ask, but he learned enough from Shiu to understand that his family was unkind to Toji. That long before the accident, long before the bullet, some parts of Toji were already broken. A splintered being, fractured around the edges. Megumi can’t help but adore every little piece of him.He leaves the light off, keeps them suspended in the pocket of time between morning and night. It’ll be easier if Toji stays sleepy, half-awake. But even then, he works himself up, teeth gnashing as he looks around.Megumi kisses his cheek, the corner of his open mouth. “I know, I know. We just– No, we need to have a bath. You peed all over yourself, Dad. We’ll be quick! You can’t go to bed like this. You’ll get a rash, and you won’t enjoy that one bit.”The running tap makes Toji flinch. Megumi talks, an unfiltered train of thought, anything he can think of to distract him, but he stares the faucet down with his hackles raised. His anxiety often turns into violence, aggression. He’s a cornered dog lashing out. In these moments, it’s hard to remember Dad loves him. Dad would never hurt him. He’s just scared. He doesn’t mean to be scary.Megumi strips himself off first. There’s no such thing as shame or embarrassment between them; Megumi’s helped Toji to the toilet every day for the last year or so. His naked body is nothing in comparison.When the water is elbow deep, Megumi turns the taps off. It’s lukewarm, and goosebumps break out over his arms when he steps into it. He swirls in a capful of bubble bath, just enough to hide the water from Toji until he’s settled, and takes a seat by the drain.“Look, I’m in! It’s okay, it won’t hurt.” Megumi bites his lip and flicks a handful of bubbles at Toji’s chest. A rasping breath escapes Toji’s throat, happy and surprised.He clumsily climbs into the tub, awkward feet sending waves of water sloshing over the lip. Something else for Megumi to clean up, but he doesn’t mind. Not when he gets to hear Toji laugh again, unpracticed as it is.Megumi guides Toji to sit between his bent knees. It’s a tight fit, both of them in the tub at once, but they manage. Megumi likes the closeness, Toji’s foot in line with his—even the pain of the faucet poking his back. It’s worth it.Toji’s penis lies limp against his thigh, half obscured by bubbles. Even soft it’s thick; Megumi cups himself to compare, and something a little darker, nastier, than envy floods through him. He’s on the cusp of puberty, teased by its changes but still a ways away from becoming a man. He isn’t jealous of Toji’s penis. He wants it. To touch it, hold it, take it inside himself; Megumi wants to be the women from Toji’s past, the men Shiu drops hints about with a sneer. The people lucky enough to know him in his prime, before the accident turned his brain to mush.Toji doesn’t get erections anymore. Megumi doesn’t know if that bothers him, if he’s aware of how broken his body is. He doesn’t seem to be aware of anything, only Megumi’s presence. Maybe that’s all he needs.Megumi drags the sponge across Toji’s shoulders, wide but not as muscular as they used to be. Rounded, droopy. More scar tissue than skin, old wounds that still make Megumi’s stomach turn, even now they’re healed. Toji’s head cranes back so he can hide in the crook of Megumi’s neck, breathing slowly onto the side of his face.“We need to brush your teeth, too” Megumi says, pursing his lips and twitching his nose. He presses his cheek to Toji’s head and begins to wash his front. His chest, his soft stomach. Pulls away to scrub under his arms, and smiles when Toji flinches. “Ticklish?”The hair here is coarse and curly, a thatch much more impressive than Megumi’s few wisps. This close, past the cheap shower gel that’s more water than soap, Megumi catches the dark tang of Toji’s sweat. He tastes it on the back of his tongue, musky and potent, saturated in his skin. Megumi could scrub until Toji bleeds, and the scent would still linger.Megumi fills a cup with water and pours it over Toji’s head so it runs down his back, avoiding his eyes. It’s too late for him to wash Toji’s hair, so a quick rinse will have to suffice. They won’t go anywhere he needs to be presentable, and Megumi never minds his filth. The smell of Toji’s dirty hair is soaked into their bed. Megumi loves it. He shoves his face into his pillow when he wakes from his funny dreams—the comfort of being surrounded by Dad sends him back to sleep, fire in his belly not quite put out, but gently simmering.A tickly feeling in his stomach is normal, being around Toji so much. He’s used to it. He can’t help it. Weak as he is now, Megumi thinks he’s perfect.Toji reaches for the threadbare washcloth himself, so Megumi lets him take it and watches him awkwardly drag it down his arms, over his shoulders.“I already cleaned here!” Megumi laughs, guiding the cloth to Toji’s legs. “We need to scrub between your toes.”While Toji figures out how to lift his foot closer to himself, Megumi’s hands drift to his waist once again. He pokes at the folds of fat, Toji’s love handles—another development, now he can’t move around so well. On sunny days, Megumi might walk him down to the corner store, a five-minute trip so Toji can feel the breeze and isn’t cooped up too long, but outside… Toji finds it difficult, being outside. Being around other people. It’s better for him to stay in their apartment, shut away and safe.No one else has access to Toji, and that makes a sick little part of Megumi pleased.Toji belongs to him, and he belongs to Toji. They don’t need anyone. They have each other.Megumi brushes his knuckles along the length of Toji’s penis, braver than before. His fingertips comb through the tangle of pubic hair at the base, then curl around his penis to measure the weight of it in his palm. His mouth waters. His breathing comes quick and shallow.Washcloth forgotten, Toji shifts in place and tries to escape the hold Megumi has on him.“Shh, shh,” Megumi coos, kissing Toji’s hair. “It’s OK, it’s me. You’re OK.”Toji fusses again, shakes his head, kicks his feet in the water. More spills over the sides and onto the floor, but Megumi isn’t angry at him. He’s so proud; Toji’s being so brave.“You like it, silly. Don’t you? I know you like it.”Megumi doesn’t stroke as much as he massages, feels Toji’s flaccid penis. There is no objective—he isn’t trying to arouse him. He’s just curious to see if it so happens to give him an erection. He swipes his thumb around the puckered, sticky edge of his foreskin. Megumi’s isn’t as loose.Fascinated, he peels it back further until Toji’s cockhead is exposed. He gasps. It’s blush pink and drools when Megumi presses his boner to the small of Toji’s back, thin and clear like Megumi’s cum.Megumi hooks his chin over Toji’s shoulder so he can comfortably see his hand working under the water, bubbles misplaced with each movement. It’s thrilling. He distractedly makes shushing noises, calming Toji so he doesn’t get spooked. Taking advantage of Toji turns Megumi’s stomach, makes his chest heavy with guilt, but it’s overshadowed by his awe and excitement seeing this part of his dad.He’s dreamt about it before, shamefully, though his dreams don’t come anywhere close to seeing it for real. Feeling it in his hands. Toji is beautiful. Megumi can’t even begin to imagine how beautiful he was in his prime, hunched over his partner’s prone body, biceps bulging as he holds himself up to thrust into their wet, inviting hole. He could take anyone he wanted. He deserves anyone he wants, anything he wants.Megumi tries, but he doesn’t know. He can’t tell what goes on in Toji’s mind, can’t see his desires. Despite that, he tries his best.Megumi lets go of Toji’s penis and skirts his hand up his chest, cups the heft of his pecs in his palm, squeezes him. Toji’s nipples are stiff, dusky against his hairy chest. Megumi wonders what they’d feel like in his mouth. If he ducked down and caught one between his lips—how would Toji react? Would he feel it? Would he cradle Megumi’s head and hold him close, encourage him to suck?Megumi has no memory of feeding from his mother. He doesn’t remember her smell, her voice, her taste. He never met her, not really. But he doesn’t miss her. He’s always had Toji. And now, to pay him back for all those years, for skipped meals and crumpled notes left on dressers, Megumi will take care of him.The image of Toji held against his chest briefly flickers to life in Megumi’s mind, and it knocks the breath from him, overwhelms him so suddenly stars burst behind his eyelids. His own penis jerks, untouched, and a ragged exhale is ripped from him. Just like that, like a flipped switch, the bath water is too cold. Too dirty. His skin is too tight. Toji is too close. Megumi rips his hands away from Toji’'s body, pulls the plug, and abruptly stands.He scours himself with an old towel until his skin is sore and pink, but it’s deserved. An act of atonement. Megumi leaves Toji playing in the last of the bubbles while he searches for clean bed sheets.