Disclaimer: I do not own Junjou Romantica or any of its characters.
So, this was originally posted under Cerberus' "A Thousand Words" series, but it has turned into far more than a short and since I have been shifting all my fics around and doing this big revision as I repost, I decided to relocate it here.
Homesick: Chapter One
Nowaki was making breakfast in the kitchen after returning from another night at the hospital.
It had been two months since he'd returned from America and four weeks since he and Hiro-san had fully moved in together. He couldn't have been happier with the arrangements, even though between joining households and recently beginning his medical residency, both he and Hiroki were still learning how to navigate their new situation.
The young intern watched as Hiroki emerged from the bath, dressed and ready to head to the University. It had only taken six tries to wake Hiro-san up that morning. He held his smile in check, knowing that encountering a grin so early in the day would disconcert his grumbly lover.
He had quickly learned early on in their relationship that Hiroki was not a morning person, but dealing with that occasionally and dealing with it every day, he had fast become aware, were two different things entirely.
This morning though, it only took Nowaki a few moments observing Hiroki for him to tell immediately that something in Hiro-san was off (way more than normal, that was).
For one, his dear professor was clearly paler than usual and though Hiroki kept his face in the same serious mask he always did, Nowaki noticed that the spark which normally flared in his eyes whenever Hiro-san first saw him was absent.
Hiroki came and pulled out a chair at the table. He sat down quietly and watched as Nowaki brought several dishes out and arranged them on the table's cheerfully set surface.
Before he sat down himself, Nowaki stepped over and ran his long fingers through Hiroki's hair. He frowned slightly when Hiroki didn't pull away or protest this action.
"Good morning, Hiro-san."
The hand in Hiroki's hair lifted up his thick bangs as Nowaki pressed a kiss to the man's forehead. Beneath his lips, Nowaki noticed the furrow this action immediately provoked was clammy and hot.
Hiroki grunted slightly at this attention and shifted in his seat rather than bat him away as he would normally have done.
Nowaki went and took his place across from his lover, a look of concern on his face. Hiroki didn't seem to notice this though; he was flipping listlessly through a book he'd left on the table the previous evening.
After they said their usual quick blessing, the giant studied Hiro-san closely. He watched as Hiroki took smaller servings than usual and pushed them around with his chopsticks rather than tuck into them with his usual gusto.
"Hiro-san, are you okay?" Nowaki's tone was hesitant.
Hiroki lifted his bowed head in surprise at the question. He frowned.
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, you look a little pale and you don't seem like you're eating as much as usual."
Hiroki pushed his bowl away.
"I'm fine!"
The quickness of this assertion only made the falsehood of his reply immediately obvious. To try and cover this, Hiroki extended his lie further.
"I'm just not hungry. You know, I'm not used to eating breakfast every morning."
In truth, however, he had been feeling poorly since the previous afternoon. Midway through his late classes, he had become a bit nauseous and his stomach had been hurting him increasingly since then.
He had attributed this to stress initially. He had been worrying quite a bit lately about one of his more gifted students who was having a lot of personal issues and was considering dropping out of school.
This, on top of some recent administrative cock ups and all the drama and changes with Nowaki's return, had him ascribing these feelings to his pre-ulceric stomach acting up again, as it often did when he was worrying too much.
However, while it had started out feeling like that yesterday, this morning the pain had slipped down and was now tightly gripping his low belly.
Unwilling to discuss this and sound like some kind of alarmist or to subject himself to any more of Nowaki's sharp-eyed scrutiny, Hiroki rose up from the table.
Nowaki immediately noticed the wince his boyfriend tried to cover up as he stood.
"I'm going to school," Hiroki muttered, leaving his scant breakfast untouched on the table.
Nowaki rose and quietly followed him to the door.
"I didn't have time to make you lunch yet, Hiro-san. Do you want me to bring you something at noon?" Nowaki offered this, in part, because it would give him a chance to check on Hiroki later.
Hiroki bent to draw his shoes on and was surprised by the flare of pain this elicited.
"Don't worry about me. I'll pick something up on the way. You need your sleep, anyway, Nowaki." Hiroki frowned, knowing he sounded particularly annoyed as he tried to cover up how miserable he was feeling.
Once in his shoes, he picked up his work satchel and moved towards the door.
Nowaki moved in to kiss him again, but was thwarted by Hiroki raising his bag up as a shield.
Seeing the hurt look on Nowaki's face, Hiroki cleared his throat.
"If I was coming down with something… Which I'm not," Hiroki clarified, "You wouldn't want to get too close." This said, he turned, grabbed his coat off the hook, and headed for the door.
Nowaki followed him through the door and stood there silently in the open doorway as he watched Hiroki depart. He was more than a little concerned with how much more slowly than usual Hiro-san was walking but he didn't say anything or go after him.
Even though they had reconciled after that night in the library, Nowaki was well aware that Hiro-san still hadn't completely healed from his absence and that this was going to be a slow process.
This made their communication even more difficult at times and at moments like this, despite his worry, Nowaki was hesitant about pushing too hard.
He knew how much pride his professor had, and that if he pressed him any farther Hiroki would probably erupt badly, which wouldn't help him feel better at all. If anything, it would only bring added stress to Hiro-san's already taxing day and just make him feel worse.
Watching Hiroki disappear around the corner, Nowaki sighed.
He stepped back into the apartment and pulled his phone out of his pocket, setting the alarm in it for a few hours forward.
He was going to be sure and call Hiro-san in between classes just to make sure he was okay. Hopefully that wouldn't make him too mad and maybe Hiro-san would be feeling a little better by then.
Hiroki arrived at "M" University on time for his office hour, though just barely.
He was glad he had skipped breakfast since it had seemed to take him twice as long as usual to get to campus. He opened the office door and stepped in. As soon as the door was closed behind him, he staggered over to the raggedy couch that divided his side of the shared space from Miyagi's and sat down heavily.
Hiroki drew a deep breath, which only made his ache worse.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt such a pain. He rubbed an exploratory hand down his side and grimaced.
Maybe I pulled a muscle lifting a box of books or something.
He felt a blush rise to his already hot cheeks when he considered what other activities he'd engaged in recently that might have stretched something abnormally in his low abdomen: making up for their lost year, he and Nowaki had been particularly acrobatic of late with some of their positions.
Despite how he felt, this thought brought a slight upwards twist to his lips. While it was still awkward at times, it was so good to have Nowaki back in his life. Not that he'd ever admit this, of course.
As he shifted his position, the pain grabbed him again. He leaned his head back on the couch, closed his eyes and tried to will his discomfort down to a manageable state. He found that if he stayed perfectly still, he could keep the ache at a much lower level.
Hazel eyes shot back open when Hiroki heard the office door creak and a chipper voice call his name.
"Ka-mi-jou!" Miyagi trilled. "My sweet…." Miyagi's voice trailed off when he saw his junior.
"You look like shit." Moving over to his desk, Miyagi kept his keen gaze fixed on Hiroki, his usual mischievous glint significantly dimmed.
"Good morning to you too, Professor," Hiroki growled beneath his scowl.
"Oi, are you okay, Kamijou?" Miyagi's tone was surprisingly earnest.
Hiroki knew he must look pretty bad to elicit that response.
"I'm fine."
Miyagi pulled a cigarette from his pocket, grabbed a lighter from his desk and lit up.
"You don't look fine," he murmured around his smoke.
"Well, I am. I just need some analgesic!" Hiroki pushed himself slowly up from the couch and made his way painfully over to his desk to pull out the bottle he kept there for his frequent tension headaches.
Miyagi's expression became even more solemn watching Hiroki's movements.
"Maybe you should cancel your classes and go home."
Honestly the idea sounded incredibly appealing and Hiroki could only too clearly imagine the relief of reclining on his futon.
Then he remembered Nowaki was home. He didn't want the younger man to be fussing over him when he should be sleeping. It was important that Nowaki get adequately rested to be ready for his next shift at the hospital.
Fevered eyes flashed in Miyagi's direction. The look of concern on Miyagi's face only increased Hiroki's discomfort.
"I told you I'm fine!" Then Hiroki added a little less hotly, "Besides, I haven't cancelled a class since I started teaching and I'm not going to take up that habit today over a restless stomach."
Pills clutched in his hand now, he stepped clumsily away from his desk. Hiroki moved back over to the couch and picked up his book bag. He headed for the door.
"I'm going to my class."
"You have another half hour until it starts. Why don't you sit back down and rest until then?" Miyagi called after him.
"I need to write some notes up on the chalkboard," Hiroki lied. He stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind himself.
Looking down the student filled hallway, his classroom had never seemed so far away.
Hiroki wondered if it might not take him the whole twenty minutes just to get there.
He sighed.
This is going to be a hell of a day.
Yeah, I know sick egoist has been done… but I plan to bring my own flavor to this common trope.
That's what all art is at this point in history, in my opinion, anyway: the inhalation and mastication of the past, partially digested, and regurgitated in some slightly different form… Heh.
Anyway, thank you for sticking with me through all my OCD renovations. Hope to hear from you, as always.