let me
Emergency Request: I am in a hotel rn, after my mil blew up on me, tried to attack me, and told me to k!ll myself.
My partner witnessed it (was trying to protect me during) and keeps telling me I did nothing wrong, that it was uncalled for. I don't feel safe
I brought my Kyojuro plushie with me. To protect me, so maybe just something comforting and protective? Thank you so much if you do. If not, thank you for at least reading this <3
“Will I ever get it right?”
Kyojuro glances at you from the kitchen, microwave humming in the background as you slouch on the couch with a throw pillow tucked into your side.
His question is gentle. Searching. Hesitation fills the long space between you, the microwave beeping while you gather your thoughts. You hear the pop and click of it opening and closing, faint scent of lemongrass tea accompanying the quiet footsteps of your lover nearing you.
“I dunno,” you mumble, biting at the inside of your mouth, “Y’know.”
Brow creasing, because, well, he doesn’t know, Kyojuro studies the dry scrunch of your nose, how your cuticles peel backward, the sensation of grief cocooning far too tightly for his liking around your brittle posture.
“I do not know,” he sighs, a quiet concern warming your palms as he carefully places a perfectly heated mug in your hands, “But I do know that you do not need to be right to be loved.”
You frown, teeth grinding into the tip of your tongue. He means well. You know that. But how can he-
“I do not know,” he repeats, honest and adoring as ever, “But I do know that you are hard on yourself. Worryingly so.”
You crack a smile, cheeks brightening at the tender brush of his thumb against your bare knee.
Tapping your chin with a low chuckle, “Of course!” Kyojuro nudges you over, your body sinking toward him as he settles down beside you.
“Absolutely, ” he nods once, “I hope you can manage it.”
Your chest clenches, ribcage flaring crimson as a simple truth forces its way through.
He doesn’t leave room for argument or debate. For self pity or doubt. He is resolute. Assured. Unbearably yours.
You’re whispering now, his own fingers resting atop yours to steady the mug’s trembling, “Sometimes I believe her.”
“And all of the times I will tell you otherwise. I will promise you otherwise. I will convince you otherwise. You are good and you are loved. You are cherished. I cherish you.”
You lean into his shoulder, his words raising goosebumps along your forearms, a familiar silence weighing heavy and firm on your sternum.
“Let me protect you,” Kyojuro murmurs, lips sweeping light, delicate, spellbound across your slowly closing eyelids, “Let me be right. Let me be right about you. Let me be right about how incredible and irreplaceable you are. About how capable and wanted you are. Let me.”
And for an infinitely sweet moment, you do.