Confessions of a Spockaholic
Hey all! Thanks for clicking on my story. For those who like knowing a bit about what they're getting into, this story could either be considered canon divergent or canon compliant, depending on how you want to tie it in with the manga. As far as content goes, the only things I can think to warn for off the top of my head are language and underage drinking. Oh, and Akihiko can be a bit of a piece of work at times (Akihiko being a piece of work? Shocker! :P ), but here's hoping he can redeem himself by the end. Maybe. I'll leave it open for interpretation.
Hope you enjoy!
I don't own Junjou Romantica.
If there was one creed by which Usami Akihiko steadfastly lived, it was that whatever Takahashi Takahiro wanted, Takahashi Takahiro got. If Akihiko could provide it, Takahiro could have it, end of discussion. So when Akihiko's phone rang in the middle of the night and it was Takahiro, begging him to come over and drink with him, the only question in Akihiko's mind was how fast he could drive over to his friend's apartment without getting arrested.
Under normal circumstances, he might have had cause to question such an odd request from such a straitlaced person, but tonight, it seemed perfectly reasonable. Tomorrow, Takahiro would wake up early, prepare a lunch for his little brother for the first time, and send him off to school. Then he would walk through the doors of Mitsuhashi University, make a beeline for the registrar's office, and withdraw his enrollment. Cook books would replace the text books he had scrimped and saved to buy. He would set aside the dreams of his youth and step into a role he was ten years too young to play.
So if he wanted to drink tonight, then Akihiko would drink with him. And if he wanted to cry, then Akihiko would hold him while he cried. And if, in his drunken state, he allowed Akihiko to sit closer to him than his sense of propriety would normally dictate, then Akihiko would do so, hating himself all the while for the dark pleasure that boiled within him at the privilege of being the one Takahiro had chosen to keep him company when he was at his most vulnerable.
Takahiro was already swaying when he answered the door.
"Thanks for coming, Usami." He stepped aside to let Akihiko in.
A barrage of scents flooded Akihiko as he removed his shoes in the entryway. The rice straw smell of the tatami mat mingled with the ghost of the miso soup that Takahiro must have cooked for supper. Smells of a home small enough to actually carry a distinct scent. Smells of a place inhabited by an actual family. Completely unfamiliar to Akihiko, who grew up on furniture polish and disinfectant spray, yet strangely nostalgic, as if he knew by instinct that this was the way a real home should smell.
"Hope you don't mind, but I already got started," Takahiro said with a sheepish grin.
Which was the understatement of the century, judging from his bleary eyes and beer-soaked breath.
In a daze, Akihiko followed his friend to the living room, carefully navigating through a minefield of discarded beer cans that littered the tatami. No sooner had he seated himself at the low table in the centre of the room than Takahiro was pushing a can of beer into his hands.
"The relatives forgot to take their alcohol when they left," Takahiro said, settling in beside him. "I figured I might as well get one big hurrah in before I settle down and become a responsible guardian." He smiled gratefully as Akihiko pulled the tab of his can, watching him drink as if Akihiko was doing him the world's biggest favor.
"I'm really glad you're here," Takahiro continued. "It's my first night with just Misaki and me, and I just..." He looked away. "...I didn't want to be alone tonight. And...well, you were the first person I thought of."
Though his friend's words were the stuff of the fantasies Akihiko often scrawled in the notebooks he kept hidden in his bedroom closet, they were so thick with despondency that the surge of dream fulfillment that spiked Akihiko's pulse was instantly tempered with cold reality. It was a dream come true in the midst of a living nightmare.
As he watched Takahiro slugging back the remainder of his own beer in a series of greedy gulps and grimacing at the unaccustomed taste, Akihiko couldn't help but marvel at how quickly fate could make a mockery of all he had believed impossible. Just a couple of weeks ago, the thought of sweet, rule-abiding Takahiro having the audacity to get shitfaced drunk in his parents' living room on a school night would have been downright laughable. Now, there was nothing even remotely amusing about the rebellious about-face in his behavior. If Takahashi "I-can't-drink-yet-I'm-still-a-minor" Takahiro was drinking without reserve in his family home on a school night, it was because his parents were never going to scold him for it. Ever.
"Hey Usami. Do you want to hear a secret?"
Takahiro's eyes were slightly crossed as he stared into the mouth of his beer can. They had been drinking and visiting for about an hour. The six pack on the low table had dwindled to a skeleton of plastic rings. Considering that Akihiko was only on his second beer of the evening, he was frankly astonished that his teetotaler friend could still sound reasonably sane, albeit slightly slushy.
Akihiko favored him with a questioning "Hm?" and waited for him to continue.
"I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I want to."
"Are you talking about raising Misaki-kun?" Akihiko asked.
Takahiro nodded. His eyes flicked guiltily toward the bedroom screen door across the room, as if he expected to see the little boy in question standing there, gazing at him with a crestfallen expression.
"It's not that he's hard to handle or anything. Cuz he's not. He's a great kid. The greatest."
"Of course he is," said Akihiko, who had never met the kid in his life. At this point, he would have agreed to anything, as long as it would keep Takahiro talking to him in that low, confidential voice.
Emboldened by Akihiko's support, Takahiro continued.
"It's just...I dunno. I had this whole life planned out for myself. Everything I've done over the last few years-saving up money, going to cram school. Mitsuhashi University was my dream, Usami! How am I supposed to just give that all up?"
An image of a newly leased apartment flashed in Akihiko's mind-an apartment large enough to easily accommodate two students, and located centrally between their respective universities. An apartment that he had been working up the nerve to ask a certain best friend to share with him before he had received the phone call that changed everything. His beer can crumpled a little under the force of his grip.
"No one should have to give up on their dreams," he muttered.
Takahiro gave him a look that was so shot with gratitude that Akihiko had to avert his face, as if the very purity of it would melt him to slag.
"It isn't fair," Takahiro continued. "Not for me, and especially not for Misaki. He's such a great kid. He should be able to have a great childhood. But how can I provide that for him? I'm practically still a kid myself! I can't even buy my own alcohol and I'm supposed to go to his parent-teacher interviews?!"
"So? It's not like the teachers will expect you to bring beer to those things," Akihiko pointed out.
Takahiro gaped uncomprehendingly at him for a few seconds, then let out a sudden bray of laughter that was completely disproportionate to the quality of Akihiko's quip.
"You can be so weird sometimes, Usagi." He paused. "Waitaminute. Did I just call you Usagi?"
Akihiko shrugged.
"You're drunk," he said by way of explanation.
"Oh wow, that's like the perfect name for you. Usagi!" Takahiro's eyes contracted into a mirthful squint as he grinned nodded at his own ingenuity.
"I'm cutting you off for the night," Akihiko said in a flat voice. "No more beer for you."
"Yes sir," Takahiro replied smartly. "Usagi," he added for good measure, bursting into a flood of laughter.
When Takahiro was finally able to rein in his chuckles, he sighed and slumped forward as if the effort to get himself under control had drained him. His head lolled precariously close to Akihiko's shoulder. The clean scent of recently shampooed hair floated in the air between them. Akihiko's beer crunched into a twisted wreck in his fist. He set it down on the coffee table.
"I've been thinking..."
Takahiro's voice, now subdued, broke through the silence.
"After the funeral, my grandparents pulled me aside and told me that they'd be willing to take Misaki in if I changed my mind about raising him myself. What if...what if I were to keep Misaki just until the end of the school year and then take them up on their offer?"
Never in his life was Akihiko so grateful for his mask of impassivity, polished to perfection over the lonely years of his childhood. It slipped onto his face with ease, concealing the wild hope that sparked within him.
"Oh?" he said in his most neutral voice.
"They're in a better financial position to support him, and they actually know how to raise children properly. He'd probably have a greater shot at having a normal childhood with them," Takahiro said.
But would he be as loved?
Akihiko shoved the thought aside. He didn't know the kid. He didn't need to worry about his emotional well-being. Not when he had Takahiro to think of-Takahiro, who would want for nothing if he would agree to move in with him...
"It's not like I'd never see him again," Takahiro continued, disrupting his train of thought. "There's always holidays, birthdays...and who knows? Maybe after I graduate from university and settle into a good career, I could send for him to come live with me. I'll have more money to support him by then, and he wouldn't need as much supervision as he would now."
Though outwardly he maintained his composure, it was all Akihiko could do to keep from throwing himself at his friend's feet and begging him to start packing Misaki's suitcase. A series of images, each more tantalizing than the last, began a slideshow in his mind's eye:
Takahiro beaming at him over the breakfast table as Akihiko dished him out a second helping of eggs.
Takahiro striding into the living room, bare-chested with a damp towel draped over his hips, telling him that the bath was free.
Takahiro, writhing beneath him in frenzied pleasure as Akihiko pressed his lips to his ear and murmured the words that he had been longing to speak since Takahiro had first turned that guileless smile his way.
"Yeah, I think that's what I'm gonna do." Takahiro slapped his fist against his palm and nodded to himself. "It's better for us both in the long run. He might have a hard time with it at first, but he'll adjust. He's such a strong little guy."
He smiled at Akihiko, looking so sure of himself that in an instant of reckless abandon, Akihiko threw his mask aside and allowed an encouraging smile to cross his face.
"You see? He's going to be just fine."
Takahiro froze. He stared at Akihiko, his eyes going wide and overbright.
"Will he?" His mouth began to tremble.
"Hey. Hey." Akihiko briefly placed his hand atop Takahiro's. That small gesture of solidarity seemed to demolish some sort of internal wall. Takahiro lowered his head and drew in a shuddering breath.
"I just love my brother so much," Takahiro said in a strangled voice. "I want him to be happy. I do! But I'm not a saint. I want my own happiness just as much-probably even more. How can I be happy if I have to throw away the life I worked so hard to make for myself? And if I'm not happy, how can I make Misaki happy? That kid is freakishly intuitive. He'd see through me in an instant, and it would kill him."
He squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth contorting into a grimace.
"I hate this," he choked out. "I don't want to be a responsible adult making adult decisions anymore. I want this all to end. I want..."
He raised his head and opened his eyes, releasing a pair of tears that zigzagged down his face, one after another.
"...I want Mom and Dad," he whispered.
As Akihiko fixed his gaze on the ceiling to give his friend a measure of privacy, Takahiro let out a long overdue sob, rested his head on the surface of the coffee table, and wept. Helpless in the face of such raw anguish, Akihiko scooted closer to him and rested a tentative hand on his shoulder. It was all he would allow himself to do, for he was familiar enough with his own depravity to know how easily his body could twist the intent of his caresses. Never before had Takahiro seemed so vulnerable, so accessible to him. How easy it would be to gather Takahiro into his arms, stroke that disheveled hair, and kiss away those tears. It would be nearly everything Akihiko had ever dreamed of doing to his friend. And for the scant moments that it lasted, it would almost be worth the lifetime of self-reproach that would follow.
They stayed like for several long moments until Takahiro, spent from his grief, lifted his head from the coffee table with what seemed like a herculean effort.
"Hey, Usami?"
Akihiko's heart ached to hear his name used in such a small voice.
"Hmm?"
"You're the smartest person I've ever met. Couldn't you tell me what I'm supposed to do? You'd have the right answer; I just know it."
Thickened with fatigue, Takahiro's voice was the echo of the child he had once been-a child in need of someone older and wiser to tell him how to make sense of a world that suddenly seemed so big and frightening. A child who was forever deprived of his parents' comfort and counsel, forced to settle for the worst possible alternative.
Akihiko took in the sight of those wet, bleary eyes regarding him as if he was the sum of all wisdom and couldn't believe that his friend didn't already know.
Wasn't it obvious?
Let the kid live with his grandparents.
Move in with me.
Let me make you happy.
Let me love you.
So many things he wanted to say. So many reasons the words had to remain locked behind his lips.
"I think..." Akihiko grasped Takahiro by the forearm "...that you've done enough thinking for one day. You need to rest." He rose to his feet and helped his friend up. Placing his hand on the small of Takahiro's back, he steered Takahiro over to the sofa.
"Lie down," he ordered. Takahiro did as he was told. His eyes were trained on Akihiko's face, as if he was eager to please him with his compliance. Akihiko knelt beside him. On impulse, he laid a hand on Takahiro's forehead, carding his fingers through silky bangs. Takahiro closed his eyes and made a little hum of contentment that threatened to unravel the final threads of Akihiko's self-control.
"It's okay to want things for yourself, you know."
Akihiko spoke in low, crooning tones. Takahiro nodded wordlessly. A fresh tear slid down the side of his face, and Akihiko thumbed it away. He fished a crimson handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his shirt and pressed it into Takahiro's hand. Takahiro smiled weakly in thanks and dabbed at his runny nose. They lapsed into another silence, Takahiro shedding the occasional tear and Akihiko brushing it away. Gradually, Takahiro's sniffles began to recede. He kept his eyes closed. Akihiko relished the opportunity to gaze down at his friend so unabashedly, drinking in the sight of the tear-spiked eyelashes and parted lips.
"I know you feel like you have to be strong and decisive right now, but you don't." Akihiko's voice felt abnormally loud in the midst of the hush that had descended upon them, but he pressed on. "Misaki-kun isn't the only one who lost his parents. He shouldn't be the only one being looked after. You could let yourself be looked after too." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "You could let me look after you..."
Takahiro was fast asleep. The handkerchief had slipped out of the hand that dangled over the edge of the sofa and lay in a rumpled heap on the floor. Soft snores rumbled from his slightly open mouth. A thin line of drool trailed down the corner of his bottom lip, effectively flipping off the switch in Akihiko's brain labelled "self-control." Greatly daring, he lowered his face close enough so that the tips of his bangs brushed against Takahiro's forehead. Sour beer breath wafted into his nose, doing dangerous thing to the pit of his stomach. He was close enough that he could count every crack and line in Takahiro's dry lips. Would they feel like sandpaper pressed against his own? It would only cost him his personal integrity to find out, but he could deal with that later. He would spend the rest of his life making it up to Takahiro and being the unselfish, supportive friend he deserved, but let him have just this one thing.
He leaned in closer. His heart drummed in anticipation. Just a little more...
"No!"
A faint, childish cry sliced through the haze of desire. He jerked away.
"No!" The voice was coming from the bedroom. Misaki. He cursed inwardly.
Not now, kid, he pleaded mentally.
"No!"
Of all times, not now...
"NO!"
Takahiro grimaced and shifted in his sleep. Akihiko's breath caught in his throat. His mind raced. He knew he should leave well enough alone. Children were about as high on his list of favorite things in the universe as bell peppers and early mornings. Chances were, the kid would scream himself awake and then go back to sleep once he realized he had been dreaming. Problem solved. But if he didn't do it soon, Takahiro would wake up-Takahiro, whose hollowed eyes spoke of too many nights without a proper rest. Takahiro, whose hair felt so exquisitely soft in the spaces between his fingers...
"NOOO!"
Shut up kid. For the love of god, shut up...
A long silence followed. Akihiko sighed and relaxed.
"Nii-chaaaan!"
Dammit!
That did it. The spell was over. Akihiko rose to his feet. He threw a frustrated glance over his shoulder at Takahiro's sleeping form, then padded across the tatami to the sliding screen door that separated the living room from Misaki's bedroom. He might not know the first thing about dealing with kids, but he would be damned if he let this one take away Takahiro's chance at getting a good night's sleep. Gripping the shoji door handle, Akihiko took a deep breath and mentally braced himself to come face to face with Takahashi Misaki for the first time.
...aaaand we're a third of the way done. For anyone who cares, I totally exaggerated the amount of beer that Takahiro was able to consume for the first time without bigger consequences. I figured that if Nakamura-sensei can give Usagi freakishly large hands, I should be able to give Takahiro a freakishly capable liver. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. See you next time!
Spockfully yours,
Spockaholic
