The chapter name was inspired by Akihiko's nickname 'Usagi', which literally means Rabbit in Japanese and since he was caught red-handed- i.e. in the headlights. I really hope you guys enjoy this ^.^ Please review... and enjoy some more!!
Akihiko screeched out of the garage, no thought left for the tire marks now made on the road or the steam that billowed behind his red sports car.
Misaki was not home and he had a pretty good idea why.
He tried to take deep, calming breaths so as not to crash into the car in front of him at the traffic lights, but his knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel hard.
Before the light hit 'go', he undid his tie and threw it into the back seat. He felt like he was going to choke anyway without something snaked around his neck.
Oh, if only Misaki hadn't seen him with that drunk outside the house. It had been nothing. Nothing.
The sloppy suited, middle aged man had hobbled over to him and made out that he was such a fan of his BL novels, that he spent every night curled round them so that he was somehow closer to Akihiko himself. It had made Akihiko want to upchuck- the mere nerve of this so-called fan to come stumbling to his home in such a state.
He had laughed and told the mess to go away, but the mess had persisted and flung his arms around Akihiko's neck.
"Argh!" Akihiko's fist struck the dashboard as he came to yet another traffic light. He buried his face in his hands.
He was sure Misaki would had forgiven him so much sooner if he hadn't been late so many nights prior to the incident. Again and again, Akihiko had tried to explain to Misaki that it was work, that it was easier for him to stay in the Publishing House and write, then return home. Akihiko had told him he felt so relaxed at home these days, with him, that working seemed like such a fruitless task.
Misaki had seemed to accept this, grudgingly, but he knew he was only acting ok with it so that they wouldn't linger on the subject. It was a well-known fact to both he and Akihiko that their life at home was anything but relaxed.
Misaki would not sleep with him.
It was the frustration of this and the longing to feel the soft, nervous touch of Misaki's lips against his own that had made him answer the drunk's kiss. Of course, it was the moment Akihiko had slammed the man against the wall that Misaki chose the turn the corner and return home.
Akihiko kissed the man with all he had, jaw clenched hard as he tried and tried to imagine this man to be Misaki. He felt tears begin to scratch behind his eyes and bile begin to bubble at the bottom of his throat as he realised what he was doing.
So he had stood back and pushed the man away hard and turned around, panting and near to sobbing, cursing himself for being such a disgusting idiot.
No matter how many times Misaki had pushed him away or scolded him for being nothing but a nymphomaniac, a paedophile, Akihiko loved him. No matter how scared he was that Misaki's denials were due to lack of interest in him and or a heightened interest in someone else, Akihiko loved him.
And he had just made out with another man.
Akihiko looked up at the traffic lights, urging with them silently to change colour against the purple night sky as he recalled Misaki's face when he had looked up after he had caught his breath.
Misaki's face had been stony, but expressionless at the same time. Shocked. Confused. Hurt.
And neither of them had made steps to move. They had just stared at eachother from either side of the road, both men embarrassed, humiliated and pained to see the other.
Oh, what had he done.